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oops-all-concrete · 4 months

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Okay, you lovelies voted for fluff, so you're getting fluff! Welcome to:

BG3 companions react to: Tav drawing the companions in their sketch book! (Romance implied)

Beware spoilers and cuteness ahead, please enjoy!

Lae'zel -

Eventually she gets irritated of being stared at, while Tav is sat pencil in book and puts down her sword from being sharpened, and paces over. "Chk. You've been ogling at me like a child for at least ten minutes. Is it with purpose or are you simply bad at keeping to yourself?" She asks, head tilted with wide eyed threat. Once she gets a glance at the page, she softens, jaw unclenching, shoulders dropping. She admires the sketch before she realises she too, is staring. "Hmm. Acceptable. Continue" Before she returns to her tent, and totally doesn't stay stiller on purpose.

Shadowheart -

Shadowheart doesn't suspect a thing, until she passes by them and totally doesn't take a glance in the journal from over Tavs shoulder. She pauses and appreciates the work long enough for Tav to realise they're being watched. "Oh don't mind me. I'm just appreciating my good side from your point of view." She smiles. "Oh, we should draw each other! I haven't sketched in so long, but I'd like for you to see what I see too." She offers, going and grabbing her own sketch set, sitting beside Tav, comfortably drawing them.

Wyll -

He allows Tav their privacy, even if they stare sometimes. He needs to be physically shown because he is too polite to snoop or look over their shoulder. Upon being shown, he smiles, but winces a little. "Oh, I love it, don't get me wrong. You've captured the Blade of Frontiers in all his glory...just, all his glory with horns and the devil's details" He chuckles, trying not to seem dissappointed. But upon another look, his eyes become wider with wonder. "...you know what, if thats what I look like to you, it's not as bad as I thought." He smiles.

Karlach -

She's nosy, okay? So when Tav puts down their book to help Gale with dinner, she sneaks a little peek, grabbing the pages with a clean cloth. She however, gives herself away immediately. "WOAH??" The whole camp turns but Karlach does not take notice. "SOLDIER?? YOU DREW THIS?? THIS IS AMAZING!" She yells, eyes bright, brows up, grin wide with teeth. The camp settles while dinner happens, but later in the evening, she pulls Tav aside to show them something. Upon a large empty plot of just dirt, Tav finds their face messily drawn with a stick into the dirt. "Can't quite draw right now, or ever really, but I wanted you to have a portrait too. Not bad, eh?"

Gale -

"Oh, and who's that handsome fellow?" He smirks, catching sight of the page one day. He asks for a better look and takes a moment to admire the sketch, before frowning. "Did you...draw me with gray hairs? Am I graying??" He asks, a hand combing through his so well maintained mane. "You didn't know?" Astarion weighs in, finding an opportunity to bully the wizard. "For a human, you are at that age, are you not, Gale?" Lae'zel adds. The wizard makes an almost theatric gasp, crossing his arms. "Gray suits you Gale!" Karlach insists, taking the drawing from Gale and admiring it. Gale pauses, looks again, and grins. "Now that you mention it..."

Astarion -

"Okay, so, that's clearly not any of the imbeciles over there, what handsome young men have you been seeing without me?" He jokes. It takes a minute, but the way Tav looks between Astarion and the book, gives it away. "...oh. That's me?" He seems to entirely lose his ability to speak. He gestures to take the book and have a better look, running his hand over the sketches, and then over his face, seeming almost confused. When prompted, he clears his throat. "Well, it's- ah, certainly flattering. Nice to have such a flattering mirror" He smiles, slipping back into his more confident persona. "In fact, I'd love to keep such a flattering masterpiece, if that would be quite alright with you?" He smiles confidently, but the way his eyes stray to the sketch tells all.

Bonus! The older generation

Halsin -

"I cannot recall the last time I have received a portrait in such likeness." He smiles fondly when Tav shows him the piece. "Might I take this back to the Grove? I'm particularly fond of anything you do really- but especially this" He asks, warm smile spread over his face. Should Tav allow it, he gives the best hug in thanks, promising to return the flattery in kind. (Yes, it will be whittling)

Jaheira -

Of course she gets a look while Tav is distracted. "Not bad. Better that bard songs, that's for sure" She smiles, nodding at the adventurer. She takes a second look and thinks for a moment. "...When did my face get so wrinkly?" She asks in a vaguely dissapointed wonder.

Minsc -

"Oh, my friend, you have a talent of flattery!" He claps and grins when he sees the work, but seems to be looking for something. "Oh- Erm, might I ask a question...where is Boo? You cannot have the great Minsc without his tiny, fluffy brain on his shoulder!" He asks, proudly producing the hamster in hand. Tav turns the page to reveal quite a few sketches of Boo. "What?? Did Boo pose for these?? How is he so accurately cute?? BOO, YOU LOOK ADORABLE! WHY DID NOBODY TELL MINSC IT WAS PORTRAIT DAY??"

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you'd like to read next. I have another poll coming soon as well 👀

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ravenslvt · 2 months

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Hi! I saw that you're taking requests, so is it okay if I ask for a spoiled city girl! Reader x country boy! Leon?

Reader's father sent reader to spend the rest of the year at her grandparents because he's had enough tolerating her. Eversince she arrived, yeah, the whole town hated her alright. Her grandparents made her do errands and shit and she'd complain and do it lazily.

Leon on the other hand- who's been hearing rumors about this girl, didn't think that she was that bad until he encountered her himself. And hell, she was way worse that bad.

Possible virgin, kinda innocent (only when it comes to ykyk) reader and brat tamer Leon?

Ignore if you're not comfortable with the idea.

🎀 cowboy!leon s kennedy x f!innocent reader 🎀

cw: smut, implied virgin reader, brat taming, sort of hate sex, p in v, oral m! recieving, v fingering, degrating, edging, light spanking

of course there was no cell service in this shithole. you groaned, falling back onto the white sheets of the squeaky bed of the guest bedroom in your grandparents house.

you had taken a gap year off of college, wanting a break and hoping to ‘find yourself’, but you just got unmotivated. your father asked you for months to find a job in the city, but you’d talk your way out of it everytime. of course, enough was enough and when the time came, he had talked to his own parents and decided to send you over to a small little farm town where they retired to, hoping to shape you up a bit. they owned a quaint farm with chickens, sheep, pigs, all a cute little older couple could ask for.

but it was your own personal hell. having to feed, clean, and even pick up after the smelly animals. at least some of them were cute. no technology to ease your mind. it didn’t help your grandparents made you drive their shitty little red truck into town once a week to get supplies, since you were so ‘nimble’ compared to them. to say the least, the whole town was not fond of a bratty city girl storming irritatingly around. refusing to do work, and even when you did, you just half assed it to get it over with.

the local townies and shop workers alike always stared when you’d walk through town with your cute little purse and skirt that rode up your thighs. it was a hot town, what else were you supposed to wear? older women having to slap their husbands when they oogled for too long at the young woman walking into the supply store. that was until you’d start an argument with another customer. they’d either be judging you or too scared to say a word. sometimes both.

in one instance, there was only one stack of bird feed left, and you’d be damned if you weren’t gonna be the one taking it back to the farm. that was until a prudish older lady grabbed it at the same time as you. your eyes met, challenging each-other. she put on a fake smile. “oh sorry sweetie! need this food for my little chickies at home.” her high pitched voice irritated your head. “oh that’s unfortunate, i need it for the same reason. so if you could take your wrinkley little fingers off of it that would be great.” you yanked it from her hands before she gasped.

“what a disrespectful young lady…” she mumbled, turning around to the door of the door, looking down at her hands as she left. you mumbled a quick curse at her before walking up to the register to pay. the store clerk looked a little nervous, so he rang you up in silence in fear of you lashing out at him.

this was just one of the many incidents since you got sent here.

at least you’d found new hobbies. you started going to the small library whenever you were sent into town. there wasn’t many choices, but that along with a few of your grandma’s books from her collection, you were somewhat less bored. that and you took up sketching. sure this place was boring as fuck, but you couldn’t deny that the scenery was pretty beautiful.

it’s been almost a month since you’ve been here. you silently lounged in the room you’d been staying in, reading some god awful romance novel. you heard your grandma call your name from downstairs. you sigh before getting up. “what?” you yell back, annoyed you got interrupted reading your newly picked up book. she didn’t respond, another tindge of annoyance reaching your skull.

as you walk down the creaky wooden steps, noticing the front door open to find the older woman on the front porch. you heard a deep voice chuckling from outside. walking out, you were greeted with a handsome young man. he only looked two or three years older than you, but he was tall and had a good frame. seems like doing work on a farm for years really builds up muscle. the wrinkled woman calls your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“um, what can i help you with?” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. the man gives you a smile before holding out his hand for you to shake, lowering his dark grey hat to reveal some of his dirty blonde hair underneath. “i’ve heard a lot about you miss, names leon.” his large hand extends towards you. you just eye it and roll your eyes. “hi? can i go now, nana?” you plead to the woman. she just sighs and puts a hand on your shoulder. “pop and i gotta go into town for a couple days for this chicken auction he’s been wantin’ to go to. our friendly neighbor here offered to help show you around the farm a bit. teach you a few things” she eyes you sternly.

“teach me things? i’m not twelve. i can handle myself” you retort, glaring at the tall man. he just chuckles. he had heard from around town you were feisty, but it was even better to see in person. he rests his hands firmly on his hips.

“promise i won’t get in your way, darlin’. we’re doin’ some renovations on my own house a few miles down the road. your kind grandmother here offered to let me stay in the guest house while they’re gone.” he smiles assuringly. you were annoyed. you had already spent the last thirty seconds planning on sunbathing or sitting in your room, free of any work on the farm.

“i just don’t think this is very necessary. surely you can afford a hotel?” you retort back. your grandma gives you a light smack on the back of your head. “sorry ‘bout her. not from here” she smiles kindly at the young man. you just pout. “yeah, thank god” you mumble, causing you to get another light smack.

“oh it’s no trouble at all. got myself a little cousin back home that’s a bit of a brat too.” he comments, his eyes never leaving yours. your face flushes. “excuse me? a brat? fuck off dude-“ you start. “language!” she scolds you. you mumble a small apology to her while still glaring daggers at leon.

leon just stands there, entertained by your little outbursts. he could tell you really did not enjoy being here, but he was ready to fix that. his gaze shifts down to your attire, you clearly didn't pack for working on a farm. always in cute little outfits that you'd always wear back in the city.

your grandma changed the subject, asking leon a few questions about his family and his own farm. you were lost in your own thoughts. at least you'd be stuck with a hot farmer instead of some old creep. maybe you could just fake flirt with him to get him to do all your chores for you. that should work, right?

after a few treacherous minutes of standing on the badly painted white porch, you said your goodbyes. leon gives your grandmother another respectful handshake and he just tips his hat at you while you just stare, giving a tiny wave before storming back inside.

about two days later you said your goodbyes to your grandparents, they gave you some hugs and kept repeating the list of chores they'd tasked you with. feed the chickens, take out the eggs, you really just blocked out their words from entering your head. you just smiled and nodded, waving at them as they drove off the property.

you gave a sigh of relief, leon wouldn't be here for another few hours so you thought you'd have some 'me' time. taking a long hot bath (your grandparents always got mad when you used up too much hot water), reading your romance novel while relaxing in the warm water. your cheeks flushed at a certain scene in the book. you didn't expect the library to carry a literal smut book. the main male character in the novel was going down on the pretty girl, the writing made your stomach churn in arousal. you'd never read anything so... descriptive before.

right before you could turn to the next page when things were getting more hot and heavy, there was a heavy knock on the door. you jerk up from your laying down position in the bath and sigh, leon was early. you lay your book upside down so you wouldn't loose your place, wrapping a small towel around your figure before fully stepping out, draining the bath. another knock and a familiar voice calling your name. "you home?" he calls. "yeah, hold on!" you scurry around, cursing yourself for not laying out clothes beforehand.

you carefully step downstairs and opening the front door, peeking out. leon had a duffel bag with him with his things in it. "um, yeah?" you say, trying to hide your toweled figure behind the door. he smiles. "just need the key to the guest house, darlin." oh right. you nod, grabbing the key hanging near the door and hand it to him, your fingers brushing slightly, making your cheeks heat up. before he could open his mouth to speak, you shut the door on him unremorsefully. "thanks." he chuckles out, turning to make the walk to the guest house about a hundred feet away from the main house. and of course you were the one who had to clean it up before he got here.

after putting on your favorite outfit and boots, you make your way back downstairs for some water. sipping from the clear glass cup, you notice leon outside the window. he was already getting familiar with the animals. he looked good in his light blue button up shirt, it really brought out his eyes. the way he had rolled up his sleeves so his veiny arms were on display. he was squatted down next to the new baby sheep and was petting her. you pouted, she didn’t even let you pet her. you sigh, placing your glass down before making your way outside.

leon’s head perks up as he notices you walking twords him. he gives you a charming smile, standing up from the baby sheep. you speak first. “she lets you pet her? everytime i come near she yells at me.” you cross your arms at the man. he looks back down at the small animal who gave you an angry look, running off somewhere. “you gotta' know how to approach em’. plus they sense your vibes” he adds, his eyes back on you.

“my vibes, huh? what’s that supposed to mean, mister?” your eyes squint at him, a hint of irritation in your eye. he doesn’t feed into your attitude. “leon” he corrects you.

“leon” you repeat. the way his name sounded rolling off your tounge made his lips quirk up in a small smile.

“now-“ he starts, grabbing a nearby bag and handing it to you. “- better start on those chores, hmm?”. you glare at him, scoffing. “you’re joking.” you retort. he just shakes his head.

“i’m here for a reason, darlin’. best get to work so you can get it over with faster.” he shoves the bag in your arms and you give him your best puppy dog eyes. “c’mon leon. you’re so big and strong, i’m sure you’d get it done a lot faster than me.” you bat your eyelashes at him. he seemed gullible enough to seduce. he just chuckles. “nice try, you’re cute” he says, walking off to leave you to your chores. you groan. “fine…” you mumble, walking off to to collect the chicken eggs.

over an hour later, you lie in the green patch of grass, playing with your nails. pouting that cleaning the coop made you chip one. you’d finished majority of your chores, hoping it was enough to get leon off your back. whenever you’d start to walk away from a task, he’d appear to show you what you did wrong and how to improve. you wanted to punch his pretty face.

you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard a deep voice approach you. “takin’ a break?” he says, standing over you. you sigh, not even bothering to look up at him. “i finished for today. i’ll do the rest tomorrow or something.” you continue playing with your nails, still annoyed.

he crosses his arms over his strong chest. “you’re quite the lazy girl, y'know that?” you just scoff. “whatever, asshole” you spit back.

“you got a bit of a mouth on you, don’t ya’?” he squats down so he’s level with you. you finally turn to him, glaring. you angrily stand up, dusting yourself off before gasping. “fuck!” you yell, looking down. your favorite skirt had stains of grass and dirt on them. you didn’t realize the grass was wet before you sat down on it. “are you serious?! this is so gross!” you try wiping the stains off, but only making it worse by spreading them around. you notice leon laughing at you. you turn to glare daggers at the now standing man.

“what the hell is so funny?” your face has annoyance all over it.

“c’mon, let me help you get those stains out, sweetheart. wouldn’t want such a pretty skirt to be ruined” he starts to walk twords the guest house.

“i’m not your-“

“you want that skirt clean or not?” he sighs. you silently nod, following behind him. he opens the door to the clean little house, holding it open for you and shutting it once you were both inside. it was surely nicer than the place you were staying in. a big bed against the wall and a little kitchen table. you remembered staying in here with your father when you visited as a kid. you loved it here back then.

he sets his hat on the counter, finally giving you a full view of his parted hair. he was even more handsome without the hat. he caught you staring and you quickly look away.

“gotta' take the skirt off so i can run it in the wash for you before the stains seep in.” he says, leaning against the counter with his large arms crossed over his broad chest. your eyebrow quirks. “um, i’m not doing that”. he gives you a questioning look. “i’m not wearing anything under…” you add. you only wore your panties under, not wanting to ruin the outfit with ugly shorts. he sighs. a thought flickers in his mind of you taking your skirt off, your pretty ass on display for him.

“fine. you can borrow some of my sweats.” he walks over to his bag of clothes, rummaging through until he pulls out a pair of plaid blue pajama pants. you scoff. “these are ugly as fuck, this is gonna ruin my outfit.” you hold up the pants. they were way too big for you. but they smelled like him. woodsy and a hint of pine. he steps a little closer to you. “if you’d rather let that pretty little skirt get ruined, then be my guest.” he says. you have to crane your neck to look up at him. you sigh, taking your shoes off. “you could just change in the bathroom, you know.” he comments.

“well you could also just look away, pervert.” you say, carefully setting your boots on the floor. he puts his hands up in defense, turning and walks somewhere across the room. “y’know, some day that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.” his voice is lower now, more serious than before. you roll your eyes, shimmying yourself out of your little skirt. “fuck off. you’re not my father.” you bite back, pulling the loose pants over your hips. “these are too big…” you say, holding the pants up or else they’d fall to the ground. he turns and walks up to you, inches away. he grabs the drawstrings, tightening them so hard that you let out a barely audible gasp.

your eye’s focus on his hands. the way they tied the strings perfectly, patting your hip once he finished. “better now?” he asks, looking down at you. you didn’t say a word, just nodding. he smiles. “no words for me from the mouthy girl?” he says. you huff.

“you don’t know anything about me, leon.”

“i know enough. i know you’re an entitled little brat who needs to be put in her place.” he whispered, leaning into your ear. his hot breath left chills down your neck. you could feel your nipples harden against your top. his arms trapped you against the counter.

your eyes finally pull to his, almost magnetically. “what’s your story then, pretty? refusing to work so your daddy kicked you out?” he guesses. you stay silent. he was right.

“what happened to that little mouth of yours? got nothin’ to say now?” he teases, leaning twords your face. fuck, he knew how to shut you up.

“you- i-“ you stutter, unable to respond. he just smirks. his hand slipping to your waist. “you talk all this shit, but can’t handle it comin’ back to you, can you?” god it was almost like he was getting off on seeing your flustered face.

“fuck you-“

“watch your fucking mouth, princess” he practically growls. his grip on your waist only tightens, making you almost whine. his demeanor completely changing from his lighthearted charming self. you felt yourself getting wet from his words alone.

“or what?” you spit back.

“you wanna find out?”

that’s how you ended up with your shaky knees, pressed against the hardwood floor, leon’s big veiny cock sitting right in front of your eyes. his hand was in your hair as your hands nervously reach out to stroke him. he could tell you were inexperienced.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he coos, looking down at you as your small hand wraps around the base of his large cock.

“i don’t- i’ve never-“

“never had a cock in your mouth?” he asks. you just shake your head nervously. he pulsed at the thought of being the first man to be inside of you.

“ever even kissed someone?” he tilts his head.

“just once…” you pout. you were getting tired of his teasing. he just gives your hair a light tug, making you whine. he uses his other hand to bring his thumb to your bottom, dragging it down. you respond, opening your mouth to suck on his thumb. he presses it into your tongue, you swirl your wet muscle around his finger. “good job, see? you got it” he encourages. he removes his thumb, a trail of spit between your lips and his finger.

“now just open your pretty lips…” his hand cups your jaw, you open your mouth. he slides the tip into your hot mouth before hissing. “no teeth, darlin’.” he warns. you nod, taking him deeper. only halfway in and you’re choking around him. he groans at the way your throat contracts around him.

“fuck, you’re a natural slut, aren’t ya?” he grips your hair, moving you up and down his cock. you whine around him, the vibrations sending more pleasure straight to his dick. he abuses your throat and mouth, watching you as tears well up in your eyes. “look at you. your mouth is so much better around my cock.” he lets out another groan when you suck your cheeks in, sucking him off completely.

“think you can swallow all my cum? or are you too good for that, princess?” his voice was horse and low. you just nod, a tear falling from how deep you were taking him. he curses as his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting his hips to meet with your head. your nose burried in the base of his pelvis. you shut your eyes tight as you feel his warm release down your throat. after a few more thrusts, he pulls out a bit of a mix of cum and spit falling from your mouth. he cups your face. “swallow it.” you gulp, licking your lips and swallowing everything he gave you. you open your mouth to show him.

“such a good little slut, yeah?” he soothes your hair, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes. your cunt was throbbing with need. you look up at him through wet lashes, your mascara was probably running down your face by now. he grabs your arm to help you stand up. your legs were wobbly and hard to stand on. your panties were probably soaked at this point.

your eyes go to his lips and his smug gorgeous face. “you want a kiss?” he asks, you nod. he just chuckles. “too bad” he says, making you whine.

“leonn” you grab onto his shirt, pleading. he just shakes his head. “you need to learn how to be patient, gorgeous.” he warns, grabbing your wrists. “you and that fucking attitude. gotta do somethin’ about that.” his eyes grow darker.

he had a strong grip on your wrists, firm but gentle enough not to break you. it made you shiver knowing how easily he could. fuck it was hot. “i’m gonna fuck it right out of you. got that?” his head lowers to suck marks into your neck and collar bones, making you groan. he bit down in a particularly sensitive spot, making you cry out his name. he pulls away dragging you to the bed. “lay down on your stomach” he commands. your eyes grow wide, about to object until his brows furrow. you lie down on your stomach, your feet dangling off the edge.

you turn to look at leon over your shoulder, yelping when he drags you so your legs hung off the edge of the bed. he quickly pulls the string of your his pants before ripping them down your legs. you gasp at the cold air hitting your bare legs, your panty clad ass on display for him. he gives it a good smack, making you give another yelp into the sheets.

“you’re fuckin’ soaked through your panties. i’ve barely even touched you” he gives a small laugh before pulling your white panties off. his large skilled fingers run through your folds, making you squirm.

smack

“stop moving”

he admired the large hand print he left on your ass, feeling his dick harden again. he started with pumping one finger into your tight little hole, making you gasp. it hurt for the first few seconds, but eventually faded into throbbing pleasure. you let out mewls of enjoyment, crying out into the sheets below you as he jackhammered his finger into your sopping cunt, adding another finger to stretch you out.

“ohmygod leon!” you cry, muffled by the blanket. you’d never felt absolute overwhelming pleasure like this before. it was fucking addicting.

his fingers curled inside of you, hitting a spot that made your belly fill with a hot pleasure. you were so close, so fucking close. right when you were about to cum, he pulls his fingers out.

“leon!” you yell, looking back at him.

“told you i was gonna teach you how to be patient, didn’t i?” you wanted to wipe that smug ass smirk off his face.

you were practically drooling onto the sheets. tears falling down your face as leon edged you for the fifth, sixth time? you’d lost count after the third. “fuck leon! please please please let me cum, m’so close please!” you cry into the bed, resorting to begging. your attitude thrown out the window whenever he curls his fingers inside of you.

“since you asked so nicely…” his thrusts his fingers at a delicious speed, fucking you until you cried out his name. you clenched around his fingers, gripping onto the sheets as your vision blurs. his fingers fuck into you as you cum, coating the sheets and his hand.

“look at you. fuckin' dripping down my wrist.” he groans. he flips you so you’re on your back. you were panting, mascara completely running down your cheeks and a fucked out look on your face. he brings his fingers to your mouth and you immediately open them for him, licking yourself clean off his hand.

“that’s my girl” he praises, making you tingle. you were still coming down from your high, staring at him blissfully. his fingers leave your mouth with a pop. you watch his expression through your lashes.

“you’re so much prettier with your mouth filled.” he smiles, leaning over you. “i think you deserve that kiss now, don’t ya think so?” he asks. you nod. “yes please”

his mouth meets yours in a hot feverish kiss. his hand coming to grip your hair. he bites your lip hard enough to make you gasp. your pussy throbs with need of being filled by him. “leon, please” you beg through the kiss. he pulls away, looking at you.

“what is it, sweetheart?” he kisses down your jaw.

“i-i need you inside, please!” you beg, looking down at your bare cunt.

“aww, you just want my cock so bad, hmm? who am i to deny such a slutty girl what she wants.” he sits up, dragging his long cock up and down your wet folds. when his head caught on your clit, it made you shiver. he teases you, catching his tip on your hole before rubbing up and down again. you whine. he gives you a stern look.

“m’sorry” you pout. he chuckles, slowly dipping his thick head into your tight hole. he eased himself in, making your jaw slack open. once he was fully seated into you, your brows furrowed at the stretch. “hurts, s’too big!” you cry out. he tsks.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he pulls out just to push himself back into you with a powerful thrust. “fuck, you’re sucking me in, baby. must be so worked up. is this why you’re such a bitch all the time? never gotten dicked down properly?” he teases as he thrusts in and out of your abused pussy.

you mewl when his cock hits a deep spot inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. he sensed your need, grabbing your legs and putting them over his shoulders to thrust even deeper into you. the angle made you scream out. your fingers grip into the sheets again. one of his hands find your clit, pinching it.

“y’feel so fucking perfect. like you were made for me.” he groans, loosing his composure. his thrusts got more intense, faster, and sloppier. but still felt heavenly. the mix of his cock hitting your soft spot along with him playing with your clit, you squeeze around his cock, about to cum. drool fell from the corner of your mouth as your tits bounced in your shirt as you came closer and closer to the edge.

“gonna-gonna cum!” you scream. he only goes faster.

“gonna cum with you, baby. bein’ so fucking good for me.” he gets more vocal when he’s closer to cuming. he didn’t know what felt better, your hot mouth or your hot tight pussy. there was sweat dripping down his neck. you wanted nothing more than to lick it up, but didn’t dare move in fear of him not letting you cum. he was in full control. with a few final thrusts, you finish around him with a loud moan. he follows suit, his hot seed filling you to the brim.

you are both panting at this point, but he’s still half hard inside of you. you look at him with heavy, confused eyes when he doesn't make a move to pull out.

“oh, we’re not done until you’re begging me to stop, pretty girl.”

“wow! this place looks amazing! you guys did a great job around the farm!” your grandma smiles at the handsome young man. he gives her his classic innocent charming smile.

“can’t take all the credit, m’aam. your granddaughter did most of the work.” his strong hands rested at his hips.

“how in the world did you get her to do that!?”

you watch from the porch, wearing a sweater to cover all the marks leon had given you. everytime you’d complain about a task, he’d bend you over and fuck you until you were crying for him to stop at the overstimulation.

the older woman called you over to have you help with leon’s bag. you sigh, walking over as she walked away to talk to her husband.

“you still never gave me my panties back…” you lean against his truck, looking up at him. he chuckles, running a hand down your arm.

“think of it as your parting gift to me, darlin’” he says, giving your arm a squeeze before shouting a goodbye to your grandparents and giving you one last wink and a tilt of his hat before stepping into his truck.

maybe this town isn’t too bad….

masterlist

a/n: i got a little carried away with this i just loveddd this prompt. tysm for this request!!!

#x reader #reader insert #smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon resident evil #re4 leon #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy fanfiction

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bitchslappin · 23 days

Text

Figure Studies

Summary: Joel let's his you paint him like one of your French girls (kind of not really).

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, no implied age gap but do what you want, sexual tension, voyeur to some degree, exhibitionism kind of, M masturbation, overstimulation a little bit, fluff for sure, Joel's so in love, idk the tags make it sound lame lol

Word count: 2.5k

“Quit starin’ at me. It’s creepy.”

Joel’s voice is gruff. He’s bent over the dining room table, summer evening sun streaming in through the kitchen window. He’s cleaning his rifle. It’s been too long, he hasn’t been keeping on top of it, it’s been long enough since he’s had to use it. He’s been at it for the better part of an hour, stripped down to his t-shirt, hands covered in a layer of gun oil, sweat starting to bead on his neck from where the sun’s been resting. His girlfriend is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the doorframe, just watching him. She’d been down at the Tipsy Bison most of the morning, helping Maria draw up plans for the community garden expansion. Ellie is… well Joel doesn’t actually know. She hasn’t been home since last night. But she tends to couch hop around Jackson these days, and Joel can’t say he’s mad for the alone time while she bothers other people for once.

“Can’t help it.” She tells him with a slight grin as she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “You look so good right now.”

Joel snorts and flicks his eyes to her, annoyed. “Yeah, right. Sweaty and greasy and angry. What a good look.” He snarks.

He doesn’t have to see her roll her eyes, he can feel it. She walks in slowly. “‘M serious Joel. You look good.” She murmurs softly. She’s not teasing him this time, or even really flirting, her tone low and sincere.

He finally looks up at her then, pausing what he’s doing. His breath sticks in this throat a little bit. Even after years together, he’s not good at this. Accepting genuine compliments in a neutral setting. He’s gotten better at the flirting, and he’s more willing to give up some control in the bedroom, but this kind of thing? The softness? He’s still a little shy about it. He just shakes his head at her and says nothing. He won’t argue with her, but he doesn’t know what to say. He turns back to his task, wiping the stock of the rifle, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers.

She sits down next to him, pulling her legs up onto the chair and leaning her elbow on the table, her head in her hands. She watches him silently for a little while, and it’s easy for him to fall back into the rhythm of cleaning, zoning out a bit as he works. As he finishes up, fitting the pieces back into place, she interrupts the silence.

“Can I draw you?” She asks quietly. He looks up at her with a furrowed brow. She’s quite the artist, always sketching and even painting when she has the time. One of her new friends had somehow gotten her a set of oil paints for her birthday, and Joel loved to sit for hours and watch her paint. She’s sketched him plenty of times. He’s seen some of them because she’s shown them to him, some because he spied them over her shoulder. But she’s never asked before.

“You… what, now?” He asks as his brows knit together in surprise. She just shakes her head with a smile. “Yeah now. Come on, please?”

Goddamn him he can never resist that look on her face. Sweeter than sugar. He grumbles. “Fine fine…” He rolls his eyes as she smiles in triumph. “Where d’you want me?”

She stands and drags him by the hand into the living room, grabbing her sketchbook off the coffee table. The light is pouring into the living room as she pushes the curtains open. “Go sit on the couch. Just get comfy.” She tells him. He huffs about it but he goes to sit on the couch, groaning, when she turns back and makes a surprised noise.

“What are you doing?” She asks, an eyebrow raised in confusion. He’s hovering, halfway to sitting, and he frowns at her. “You told me to sit on the couch…?”

She makes a noise in the back of her throat and pushes on her shoulder as she goes to sit on the coffee table in front of him, sketchbook on her lap. “You gotta undress first.”

“What??” His lips part in shock and his eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Come on Joel, please? I haven’t ever been able to do real figure studies. Please?” She’s not teasing anymore, not trying to push his buttons. She’s genuinely asking. She’d always told him that when she was little, she’d dreamed about going to art school in a big city, sketching figure models for hours. But then of course… well you know what happened. He hovers there for a minute. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before. Hell sometimes he feels like they see each other naked more than clothed. But it’s not the same. This is more exposed, in the sunlight, with her just staring at him.

“Can I just… just take my shirt off?” He asks with a nervous chuckle. He meets her gaze and he can see the slight of disappointment there, though she nods and gives him a smile. “Sure Joel, that’s fine.”

He pulls the shirt over his head and hesitates, watching her face as she flips to a clean page in her sketchbook, twirling her hair up onto the back of her head and pinning it in place with a pencil. The sunlight makes all of her look golden, the strand of hair that escapes down her neck, the freckles on her cheeks… she’s glowing and he is powerless but to give her everything. Even something he thinks is silly. He huffs and commits, unbuttoning his pants and shoving everything down like he’s annoyed, but he’s really just nervous for some reason, and flops back on the couch. He shifts a little as she gazes at him. It feels different from when they’re in bed, the way she’s looking at him now. Now, she’s looking at him like a specimen, like something to study.

“So… how should I sit?” He asks nervously, scratching the back of his neck. Her gaze seems to shift suddenly and her eyes get softer as she smiles at him. She sets her sketch book aside and comes over to maneuver him, her brow furrowed in concentration. She pushes him to lean back, muttering “get comfy” to him softly. He leans back, one arm instinctively going to the back of the couch, his legs falling open comfortably. She smiles at him and adjusts his arm resting on the couch, moving his hand this way and that until she likes the angle. She moves to his legs then, her hands are warm and sure as she pushes at his knees, his thighs, adjusting them a little wider. He lets out a slow breath, trying to keep his cool. ‘This is for art, that’s it’ he tells himself. But then she takes his other arm, adjusting it across his body, placing his hand over his cock, already semi hard from her attention. He bluescreens for a second, looking up at her with wide shocked eyes. She just arches an eyebrow at him.

“This okay?” She asks, her hands hovering and ready to move him if she needs to. He looks down at himself for a half a second before back up to her. ‘Be cool, Joel. Be cool’ he tells himself and clears his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s… it’s fine.” He nods. She smiles brightly then and leans to peck a quick kiss on his lips, before moving back to the table to pick up her sketchbook.

She quickly gets lost in the drawing, holding her book on her knees, her pencil skritching on the paper softly. Her focus on him is intense, almost like she’s not really seeing him, she’s looking through him. For a while, he just watches her, fascinated. The way her brow is furrowed in focus, and the way her eyes move rapidly as she flicks her gaze between him and the paper. It seems silly to think but he finds himself feeling like he’s never seen her so… intimately. There’s something about the demeanor she has while she’s creating. He feels that way when he watches her paint, too, but he’s usually sitting behind her then, watching the colors take shape, looking at the landscapes with her. He’s never been the subject. He watches her fingers, delicate to him, though she might argue after the years of post-outbreak turmoil, as she uses her pencil like a magic wand. The movement of her hands is mesmerizing, the way the light catches her skin…

It doesn’t take long for him to start getting hot under the figurative collar. ‘Stupid caveman brain’ he thinks to himself. He can’t help it. She’s so beautiful and she's looking at him like that and he feels so… vulnerable. He tries to stay still, to hold the pose, as he starts to harden under his palm. The couch under him, the sun streaming in, his hand on himself… everything is sticky and warm and his hard is beating faster. He shifts a bit in his seat, trying to hide it, to stay still for her, but catches the way he shudders as he slides against his sweaty palm. She’s doing some shading and doesn’t even look up from her paper when she breaks the silence in a low voice.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” She asks softly, her gaze fixed on the drawing. His head snaps up and his eyes dart around for a minute like he thinks she’ll be talking to someone else. He clears his throat.

“Wh-what?”

She looks back up at him then. Her face is open, almost confused at his confusion. “Do you want to…” She gestures with her pencil at where his hand rests covering himself, speaking matter-of-factly. He glances down at his hand, curled around his hard dick. His brain still can’t process fast enough and he looks back up at her, just staring for a minute.

“Do you want me to?” Is what eventually spills out of his mouth. He swallows thickly as he keeps her gaze, a flush burning on the back of his neck. He’s never done anything like that before, not like this with her fully clothed and sitting five feet away from him. She smiles at him softly, the sweet look on her face is making him feel fuzzy and warm and he squirms a little bit, trying not to gasp at the friction against his palm. She nods after a beat.

“Yeah honey, you should.” She says simply, sitting back again and picking up her pencil. She continues sketching like it’s a simple as that, but he feels caught in limbo. He doesn’t do anything at first, just sitting there with his hand curled around his cock, in the same position she put him in, a blush burning hot on his cheeks. She looks up at him for an extra beat before nodding her head at him. It’s like a signal and he jolts into action, sliding his hand loosely over his cock.

It feels… way better than it should and his eyes slip closed for a second, his breath hitching in his throat. Maybe it’s the build up, maybe it’s the heat in the room, or maybe it’s just the way she’s staring at him and how easy he is for her… He keeps his fist loose at first, but quickly tightens it as the movements become slick and easy, his arousal spiking. His head drops back against the back of the couch as he starts to lose himself in the movement until her voice cuts through his foggy mind.

“Hold your pose please.” She asks firmly, her voice low. He snaps his head up and finds her eyes trained on him, his breath stuttering. She arches an eyebrow at him seriously. “I’m not finished with my drawing. Wait until I’m done.”

The tone of her voice, the command to wait… it’s like flames licking up his spine and he barely suppresses a whine, his eyes squeezing closed. His hand is still sliding over his cock, slick with his steadily dripping arousal. She’s nearly ignoring him and it makes him feel hotter, desperate.

“Sugar…!” He whines. “I don’t think I can… I’m..”

She looks up at him again, her stern expression making him choke.

“You can.” She says firmly. It’s a little encouraging, a little humiliating. “Just five more minutes.”

He groans but finds himself nodding. She’s not usually so direct and it’s lighting a fire in his belly. He should slow down, back off a bit, but he can’t. It feels too good as he watches her pencil gliding over the page. His hips roll off the couch just barely, trying to meet the rhythm of his hand, and she either doesn’t notice, or more likely she doesn’t stop him. He’s whining through his teeth as he holds onto that knife's edge, he can’t help it.

“Sugar… baby…” he mutters softly, sweat dripping down the back of his neck, his mouth hanging open as he fixes his gaze on her. Maybe it’s the tone in his voice, the needy way he calls to her, or maybe she really is done, but she sets her sketch book aside, putting her pencil down, before leaning back on her hands casually.

“Go on then.” She tells him softly, and he breaks. The moan that tumbles out of his mouth would be embarrassing if he could hear it, but the static fills his ears as he comes hard all over his stomach. With his head tossed back against the couch, he doesn’t see the hungry look on her face, or the way she moves off the couch and kneels in front of him. He works himself through the high, his hand starting to slow and his chest heaving when she pushes his hand away, taking him in her own. He gasps sharply and looks down at her.

“Baby wha..?” He stutters out as she starts to stroke him firmly. She just smiles at him, leaning in to kiss his inner thigh as she works him over. Her grip is tight and slick, hot from her skin being in the sun, much smoother than his own hand, and he moans brokenly through the oversensitivity, squirming in her grip. “J-jesus baby.. Y-you…” He stutters out between sharp chirping breaths, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Eventually she slows her hand as he starts to soften, her movements still firm but stilling. She holds him until his breathing has calmed down. And he looks down at her. “What the fuck was that?” He asks, his voice raspy. She just laughs and shrugs.

“You just looked so pretty, I wanted to join in.” She tells him as she leans her head on his thigh.

He blushes hotly and looks away for a minute. The afternoon has left him feeling vulnerable, but also syrupy and soft, better than he has in a long time.

“I… you…” He looks back down at her before huffing in frustration. “Just get up here.” She mutters and grabs her by the elbows, manhandling her into his lap as she laughs. He drags her in for a kiss, hot and lush, before flipping her over onto the couch, looming over her.

“My turn.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction

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tealgoat · 1 month

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Fritters part 1! Dialogue by @wonder-of-the-stars !!!

Silly lil comic notes under line break

Page 1

-Added loops to loops speech bubbles because it's funny

-Odile's loops, do in fact, start on a Wednesday lolol

-The lil sketchy marks around Loop's neck and wrists are meant to imply a gradient/ they're in a weird it's clothes but also still skin phase.

Page 2

Loops hands out pose is supposed to mimic some of odile's in game sprites

Page 3

-Can you tell I've been reading dungeon meshi

-Fun fact I just used the initial thumbnail sketch I did for the fritters instead of cleaning up the sketch, I think it makes food look more natural/ better (in my style at least!!)

Page 4

-Tilted triangle panel was inspired by wonder! Thank you wonder

-Even angry loops still partially doing odile's hand pose

-Last 2 odile panels can be connected

-Random thing but I was struggling with that odile pose so much I just traced an old pic I did of loop lol (hey accidental parallels or whatever)

-This ones silly but with the last panel I thought it might be fun to have the gem Odile changes into a star post game in the frame- it's "something different" lol foreshadowing

Page 5

-I wanted to frame it as loop not directly being shown giving the peppers back/ still having the bag- do they give it back to her off screen? Let the peppers just sit there tauntingly refusing to eat them? Do they eat them when she leaves? Up to you!

-Loops pose is directly referencing one of their in game poses

Page 6

-Another in game pose

-Time has passed! This is the same day

#in tales of time #part 2 coming eventually #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #my art #in stars and time spoilers #in stars and time fanart #isat odile #isat fanart #isat loop #in tales of time au #isat au

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levmada · 2 months

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every—lesser known—canon fact about Levi Ackerman.

infamously over the years, there have been countless false rumors about Levi in particular out of the cast. many of them have become popular, even ubiquitous, and it's annoying!

and also disheartening when you find out it's not true....

and hurtful when you realize it was - sometimes - made up by trolls.

so i'm making this post<3

credit to @levisfavoriteacup for the idea!!

*disclaimer: i'm not perfect, so this may not be Everything™️ but I am confident that it's the majority of information available, and that it's trustworthy. :)

First the most populars. There is no evidence across interviews nor other content over the years that:

Levi is ugly, and is considered ugly in AOT.

Nope. See here: (tumblr link), or:

Isayama finished his first sketch of Levi mostly on a whim, but the moment he drew his face, he had a sense it would work well / he knew he had something good. Something told him: "the yaoi fangirls are going to like this one".

As time passed and his popularity grew, Isayama caught onto this and wanted to portray him more attractively (in multiple ways) to the viewer/reader.

But from the beginning, this was something of the goal. He is short because Isayama had in mind what young women/fangirls in Japan consider attractive: a man with a higher-pitch voice; has a small face; and who is "short but strong".

In the world of AOT, he (in a nutshell) is mostly considered plain or awkward, but combined with his reputation and style, he's very charming. "He cleans up nice." Overall, it is positive :) But more importantly, realistic I think.

He's also something of a celebrity. People who advertise their product as being used by him are more successful; when he's seen in a shop, this by itself is considered "advertising" and more people come in. Quote: ""the tea that the hero bought”".

He's definitely not a 2/10 at any rate😇.

—the 24th episode of Naoki Yoshida's Anime Plan, 2013 / Interview with Frau Magazine, 2013 | Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure

Levi’s type would be someone who’s "tough, feminine and sensual".

Levi's type "might" be tall people. But context matters, because in multiple translations "don't you think?" and "might be" are thrown around a lot. Isayama isn't known for his clarity. When asked, he practically said the question right back. —fan Q&A from a festival in Betsumaga, Aug.2014

What this quote might have come from is a statement by the author of an article Isayama was likely involved in. I can't say this is 100% canon, but in my opinion it's a little less canon than the Smartpass AUs; if those are sub-canon, then this is sub-sub-canon:

Levi's romantic type is someone who walks three steps behind him, and likes cleaning.

In the past, in Japanese culture, for a wife to walk three steps behind her husband implied highly traditional gender roles. What this is much more likely to mean is that Levi's romantic type is someone who will let him protect them, or will run away and survive even if it costs his life. (And they have to like cleaning.)

—the article is from 2013, and no longer exists. but the link was used as recently as 2021 as a source in this post by a reliable translator. I've found this quote also in varying qualities of translation across Japanese and English forums, so to the best of my knowledge, it's reliable.

Levi's cravat is a piece of his mother's dress + he was wearing her dress when Kenny found him.

This is a popular rumor that Isayama has never confirmed (i think it is true, tho.)

December 25th was chosen by his comrades because he doesn't know his actual birthday.

The guidebook only states that it is his birthday. I can't find any more context on this. —AOT Guidebook; p.256

His character profile:

—AOT Guidebook; p.78–79

His name is Hebrew, and means "attached" or to be "joined".

Isayama came up with Levi's name after watching American documentary "Jesus Camp". (It's about a summer camp-type program where evangelical Christian children are taught extreme beliefs. One of the children was named Levi.) Isayama heard it and thought it sounded cool. —Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | 2010 blogpost by Isayama

Levi is in his early 30s (in s3/RtS/volume 19). –Interview, Universal Studios Japan’s SNK THE REAL exhibition, 2016 | confirmation

If Kuchel was still alive, Levi would want to make sure she had an easy life. This means specifically filial piety, a concept exclusive to the East: he would fulfill his duties as a son for her. (tldr he's a mama's boy :3) —Bessatsu Magazine, 2019

Levi would have thin facial hair, but he prefers not to, so he shaves frequently. —January 2020 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 124)

He doesn't like coffee milk or coffee jelly. They're out of the question even.🤐 —July 2018 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 106)

He just gets depressed when he drinks coffee. Maybe he loves tea that much? He stopped calling Hange names like 'shitty glasses' since they became commander because he "seems" to respect their position that much. However, a Smartpass story delves deeper into this (and states as I suspected): [After Hange makes a joke] "Since becoming the commander succeeding Erwin, they’d toned down on their past speech and behaviour that had a touch of tomfoolery; Levi understanding that they were nevertheless trying to maintain the self “that was the case then”, also loses the will to curse at them." + "In the past, Hange had a Hange-type dream, and should have been progressing to that purpose. That lately, was it the weight of the office of commander, or was it due to the reality that is “all the world was our enemy”, their manner had changed considerably." —May 2017 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 92) | Goodnight. Sweet dreams, dear. Act II: Levi

If he and Kenny had fought one-on-one, Levi would've won. —December 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 87)

intermission: all about tea

His favorite "food" is black tea. No actual food.

He doesn't add sugar or milk to his tea because he considers it too expensive—which it is canonically. Despite this, he will share his tea with his comrades (his original squad as far as is seen).

Even though he's Captain, he'd rather drink it straight (the implications of which are he's a hardworking man, like that of a farmer. aka, this makes him seem humble).

If a time of peace ever came, Levi wants to open a black tea shop (he said in a dreamlike way, not so much based in reality).

He also knows a good amount of facts and history about it. He's a tea enthusiast!!

Levi receives pilfered tea in shipments monthly, thanks to Erwin.

—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 2 | Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure | Bessatsu Magazine, Jan.2014 | September 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 84) | AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman | The Case of the Corps Tea Party - File No. 09 Levi's Side (3/3) | sugar and milk in tea from the Japanese perspective

Levi, out of his original squad, found Petra cute/sweet in the general sense of the word "kawaii". Like Levi's romantic type however, this was sort of a non-answer to the question (of whether Levi thought she was cute). —2014 interview

After RtS, Levi seems to consider Hange and the 104th his family. —AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman

He wears a cravat because Isayama based part of his design off Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. He looks "delicate" because of his size and weight, but he's so powerful because [in issues before the reveal of the Ackerman bloodline] of "invisible power" at work. —January 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 76)

The best way to describe the way he thinks is to compare him to the main character from the movie The Hurt Locker (2008). His character was born from Hiei from the manga 'Yuyu Hakusho', and Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. The former was the basis for his appearance (especially his eyes), and the latter was the basis for his personality. Firstly though, Isayama had an image of a small man being the strongest.

—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) / Brutus Magazine (2014)

He is something of a protagonist (especially in s3p1). — Animedia, June 2018

His favorite tool (in general...?) is microfiber cloths (for dust I guess. Levi has no need for weapons :3) —July 2015 issue of Bessatsu Magazine

He will usually laugh/smile when he sees convenient cleaning goods (i.e., vacuum cleaners? feather dusters? ((cuz he's a shorty?❤️)) —Bessatsu Magazine, Dec. 2013

He does want to be taller sometimes. He gets eager to clean up after meals rather than cook at all. He can cook, though. —Bessatsu Magazine, Aug.2014 | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018

Levi mostly couldn't adapt to the changes that came about after the truth was discovered. Only he wears mostly the same uniform, cape, and blades.

After RtS, Levi personally retrieved Erwin's remains himself, for whom there was a special memorial service. After Eren (inadvertently) called him a "tiny old man" in season 3, Levi didn't care, but when he thought of it by himself later, he was hurt (unclear exactly why). Levi's father, most likely one of Kuchel's customers, is an insignificant man who's short. That's where Levi's height comes from. His face comes from his mother. At the start of season 4, Levi didn't change much compared to the 104th because he's turning into an "old man" who'd rather stick with his flip phone so to speak. He "doesn't break out into cold sweats". AKA he's always calm under pressure. He considers prostitution to be an ordinary job because of his childhood. Levi's vision is very sharp, way above average. He thought Eren's new look beginning season 4 was unclean/dirty (in more ways than one perhaps). —fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018

He has slight bouts of insomnia. He never snaps/explodes when he's angry. But he does get angry or grumpy a lot, in general. He doesn't sing. It's more likely he would dance. If he was a fan of Momoiro Clover Z (jpop girl group), his favorite would be Momoka. When/if he drinks, he has a high tolerance, but he can get a little drunk :) One thing he highly hates and fears is mold. He is the one who ordered Armin to dress as Historia during the uprising. His blood type is A. Blood types are much like horoscopes in Japanese culture, and Levi's is as such: kichōmen, or well-organized; he likes keeping things neat, but can be stubborn and stressed out easily.

Whether he eats enough or has a good diet? He is "a bit lax". Maybe he forgets to eat sometimes, or has a low appetite. When Levi bathes, he goes for a quick shower then soak in hot water, which takes about ten minutes. Like a bird :')) He on any given night gets about 2-3 hours of sleep. He thought Eren was the best at cleaning (in season 3 / uprising arc). Because of his childhood in the Underground, Levi has a preoccupation/obsession with cleaning (specifically to ward off disease). He also doesn't have any pajamas, mostly keeping day clothes on when he goes to sleep - which is in "his" chair. Levi cuts his own hair using clippers. (Something like:)

He's aware Oluo imitated him, and found it annoying. Levi's horoscope (in general) as a Capricorn: Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - Levi. He possesses warmth in the midst of a dispassionate nature, and he is capable of leadership without verbal expression – both of which are special qualities of a Capricorn. Capricorns tend to hold certain levels of authority, even if they must carry out somewhat unreasonable tactics while in such positions. But when such authority is backed up with actual abilities, a Capricorn can gain Levi’s type of confidence and also be put on a pedestal by those around them. However, Capricorns won’t be dependent on others, much less trust them easily. They don’t hold high expectations and thus never feel a sense of failure. Levi’s faults include the inability to express himself clearly. Even though he wants to encourage his companions, he always speaks in a roundabout way, and without Hanji’s translation it’s nearly impossible to understand Levi’s intended meaning. Even though he is dependable in most situations, when it comes to love/romance, he expresses himself clumsily/awkwardly. —FRaU Magazine, Aug.2014. | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018 | Levi: Close-up Report (Part One) | Translator *the horoscope wasn't written by Isayama, but was published alongside canon information, and it's also not factually wrong, so I'm including it.

The dark circles under Levi’s eyes are to convey the “self-destruction” he takes on to reach the “standard” of Humanity’s Strongest. —Interview on the topic of Levi, May 2015

His 'liege'—as Eren is to Mikasa, and Uri is to Kenny—is Erwin. He is afraid of making deep relationships because of the cruel world he lives in; he can't know when someone he cares for will die or how soon. That 'gap' left in Levi's heart by Kenny's death was filled by his squad (the 104th). If Levi hadn't joined the Survey Corps, he would've been a "very irresponsible person". Risky with his life perhaps? As a kid, Levi used to make himself stronger in order to receive praise from Kenny. When he abandoned him, he wondered what his strength was even for. He was able to find peace with Kenny after his death. In CH72, the reason Levi kicked the shit out of Eren and Jean is because of his argument with Erwin earlier.

He knows he's a slave to his own strength, aka the idea of being a hero. He realizes it when Kenny asked what he's a slave to in s3/ch69. —Answers Guidebook, Aug.2016

If he ever changed his appearance, the one thing Levi couldn't be able to give up is his undercut :') He would grow out the top and tie it up :3 —Oyama homecoming event Q&A in 2014 | 2 | 3

Levi knows how to use a gun, but he "places more trust" in knives. —Bessatsu Magazine, 2019

Levi tolerates saunas. But instead of enjoying himself he seems to see it as a test of endurance. (LOL) —Bessatsu Magazine, 2020

Levi has newspaper-level handwriting that he practices often. He's very conscious of it and being connected back to the Underground. —AU Smartpass TEXT: Levi’s Signature

Isayama had considered killing Levi around the time of the thunderspear explosion. (As always) Isayama deliberated with his editors whether or not it'd be meaningful if he died, and they decided it wouldn't be. —Kawakubo interview, 2021

Specially, Levi holds his swords in a reverse grip "his own way" since he wasn't officially trained. —Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017

Levi forcefully bathes Hange by knocking them unconscious. —AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1

Levi is 4 at the time that Kuchel dies. —What the director informed Kamiya Hiroshi of on set

His character song is called "Dark Side of the Moon", found on YouTube here. Translated lyrics here.

how to draw Levi:

—AOT Guidebook; p.229 | +Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017

#please share... this took days of time and effort #levi aot #snk levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman #levi attack on titan #captain levi #rivaille heichou #levi heichou #captain levi ackerman #levi rivaille #rivaille ackerman #aot manga #snk #levi art #levi shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levi.thoughts

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succubusonthedoorstep · 1 year

Text

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ArtTeacher! Geto x Fem Reader! ᖭི༏ᖫྀ (1.1 Word Count.)

Warnings? Gojo's sweet tooth, shy reader, vibrator use, butt plugs, edging, implied cunnilingus? jealousy, peeking down shirts, sir kink. painting is Geto's love language. +18 Only! No Minors Allowed! (Part Two.)

Author's Notes? still writing my jean and eren x reader fic, but here's something I've been sitting on for a moment!! <3 (Like, reblog, and comment please!)

ArtTeacher!Geto who enjoys instructing the acrylic painting weekend course. He’s been at it for about a year, lending his Sundays to locals and students. Most looking to sharpen their skills but some seeking a new pastime. Gojo did him a favor, pulling strings at the university to give Geto a classroom (with air conditioning!) rather than the offered room in the student center. However, it was pretty isolated, a feature he learned to love after meeting you.

ArtTeacher!Geto unlocks his door an hour before his class is due to start. Students seldom came early but he left the option open anyway. Sometimes Gojo visited, usually to hand him some small, sweet cake he couldn’t help but rave about. While cleaning the paint palettes and setting up for class, the door slams shut from behind him.

ArtTeacher!Geto whips around, eyes landing on you. He couldn’t help but immediately notice how cute you were, holding art supplies in your arms. The faucet dripped lightly behind him, brushes now forgotten. His thin white button-down shirt was rolled up to his elbows, a feature your eyes lingered on as you started explaining. “Sorry for the scare, I know your class doesn’t start for another half an hour…”

ArtTeacher!Geto alleviates your worries, insisting he’d never turn away an eager student. He stops what he was doing to help you set up on the easel closest to his desk, asking why he’d never seen you in his class before.

ArtTeacher!Geto can’t listen more intently to you speak. Your voice was melodic to him, echoing slightly from the walls when you laugh at his joke about leaving home. You just moved into the city for a job opportunity and wanted to socialize in a familiar place, the art studio. He noticed some of your paints were used and you held the brush the same way he did. You were no amateur, that was for sure.

ArtTeacher!Geto’s mood goes sour once class starts. He generally enjoyed his classes, but he only wanted to be around you today. Of course, he'll still play his role well- complimenting brush strokes, giving feedback, and staring contemplatively at completed works. The whole time he’s thinking of you on the other side of the room. The image of you, in his well-lit traditionally styled studio, made his heart jump. You’d be wearing the thinnest, finest silk as you lounge for him across a chaise sofa.

He could torture you for hours there- a plug up your ass and a vibrator for your pussy whenever he’d get bored with his work. Geto would paint you for hours, finding joy in matching his paints to your skin tone, lips, and nipples. (Even if the silk limited his view.)

‘Enjoying the view, Geto?’ You ask, holding your arm over the end of the sofa like he asked. ‘I’ve never seen you take so long for a sketch.’

“Patience, patience,” he cooed, taking another slick glance at your most intimate parts while you yawn. “So many details to take note of, it won’t be a worthy painting of you if I miss a single one.” His easel was positioned for you as well. You had the perfect view of him working and could lean over the other end of the couch to check his progress.

Both of you knew that was out of the question, however. The little pink toy between your legs prevented any unauthorized movement. Geto was a cruel lover- dragging you just to the edge of orgasm only to press the toy to your hole and call you greedy for needing more.

Without warning the toy came to life, buzzing lowly and drawing soft breaths from your mouth. Geto, no longer interested in painting, watched your reactions with the matching remote in one hand as he palmed his cock with the other.

“You won’t cum,” he challenged, turning the vibrator up to a higher setting. He watched as you squirmed in ecstasy, his teasing from earlier coming back for you. Leaning back onto the arm of the couch, you spread your legs for Geto’s view and let him hear the sweet moans he loved so much.

“Missing all those d-details,” you expressed, hips lifting from the sofa in pleasure. Geto couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Is this part of your creative process?” You asked, sliding the silk robe up your legs and exposing your glistening cunt.

The stool he sat on fell over at the force he used to stand up and make his way over to the couch. Geto’s knees met the floor harshly, hands finding your thighs to push them apart and make room for his face.

“Just need a closer look, is all…”

ArtTeacher!Geto’s fantasy is ruined at the trilling of his alarm bell. Class was over. His students were already packed and filing out of class, their goodbye’s drowned out by him searching for you.

ArtTeacher!Geto smiles when he catches your eye and waves you over. His smile falters as he watches you wave goodbye to a third-year at the university, some kid with pink hair. Geto pushes his jealousy off; he’s never in competition.

ArtTeacher!Geto has to hide a smirk when you approach his desk, clearly in high spirits.

“Thank you for class, sir. I met a lot of good people,” You gush, and Geto has to push in his chair more at the name. “I’d love to come back, when’s the next-”

“Next Sunday,” He recites it like the gospel now. The tightness in his pants only gets worse as he watches you take a sticky note from his desk and scribble your name and number on it. Geto casts a brief look down your shirt when you bend over to write, silently thankful for a memory he can use later.

ArtTeacher!Geto takes the sticky note from you with an appreciative grin, brushing his fingers with yours and melting when a flustered look crossed your face, breaking eye contact.

“See you next week, sir.”

send me prompts so i can post between fics mwah (like, comment and reblog!)

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years

Text

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Dilf! Cowboy! Peter Parker x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: Coming home for the summer back to the farm had it's perks. One of them being, you get to help out the owner of the ranch next door, Peter Parker. As they say- save a horse, ride a cowboy.

Warnings: thigh riding, over stim, BREEDING KINK, pet names, sir kink, praise kink, dumbification kink, degradation kink, tit play, smut implied, choking, cum feeding, teasing, swearing, yelling & booze mentioned ( readers father gets drunk & mad), age gap ( reader is mid 20s, peter is 40s), i let all my daddy issues shine through with this one yall, saddle up!!

Notes: "you're in the wind, i'm in the water- nobody's son, nobody's daughter... watching the chemtrails over the country club" - lana del rey, chemtrails over the country club

The caw of the rooster woke you every morning.

You didn’t have the luxury of an alarm clock, the blaring red numbers and constant blaring every five seconds being replaced with the trickle of the sunrise through your dainty lace curtains, the weight of your dog Harley jumping on your legs.

You didn’t mind.

It was a nice change from the sound of the bustling streets, the yelling of people down below mixed with the consistent sirens.

You loved your little apartment in the city, your roommate always providing you with comfort and kind words with a side of her jasmine tea.

But you had missed home.

You missed breathing in fresh, clean air, the soft breeze that would sway through the willow trees by the creek. You missed the feeling of the warm sunlight beating on you as you sat in the pasture with the cows, often sketching them while your father would yell at you to feed them, not just give them therapy sessions.

You could already hear their mooing from by the barn, causing you to sit up with a stretch, a yawn escaping your lips as you scrambled out from under the sheets.

An extra pep was in your step as you scurried down the hall to the washroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face in record time.

Today was the day.

You braided your hair in little pigtails, wrapping little pink bows to finish them off, smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

Today, you'd be seeing Mr. Parker again. Mr. Parker was your neighbour, the owner of the ranch right next to your farm. Your father had introduced him to you the second you had hauled in your suitcases in the door for the summer, and you nearly had fallen to your knees right then and there.

He was a living Adonis, his boyish smile making your face heat more than the stale summer heat outside.

I offered you up to help Mr.Parker this summer Y/N. His boys left the ranch to settle in the city before their first year at University.

Now typically, you hated when your father did this. This, little thing where he’d offer you around to the villagers like carol songs on Christmas, announcing that’d you'd be helping them with chores, without charge.

Of course, you couldn't just say no- being rude was not in your nature. But it irked you to no end when you’d have to scrub Mrs. Dorris's endless pile of dishes, or when you were forced to shovel manure on Mr. Hill’s barn with a smile plastered on your face.

But this wasn't Mrs. Dorris, and sure as hell wasn't Mr. Hill. This was Mr. Parker.

I’ll go easy on ya darlin. he had said with a wink, when the look of surprise was stunned upon your face at your father's words. Your heart had fluttered, hands went clammy as your fidgeted with your sundress. The thought of him and the words that rolled off his tongue had you smiling, a blush staining your cheeks as you ran back to your bedroom, slipping on the prettiest shirt you owned, and a pair of jeans that hugged your curves like a glove.

A basket filled with fresh berries and slices of homemade bread you had prepared last night was wrapped in flannel linen as you kissed your father on the cheek, and rushed out the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come in!” the husky voice called in response to your soft knocking on the oak door, sending shivers down your spine as you creaked it open, peeping your head inside. The sight had you nearly falling to your knees, the basket near slipping from your fingers.

You had walked in on him buttoning up the last of his white dress shirt, his beautiful, calloused hands adjusting the silver watch at his wrist. There was no ring on his finger, you noted.

Part of you hated yourself for feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you at the bareness of his hands, the other side encouraged it.

It was agony, wanting this man. You knew deep down, it probably wasn't right, him being a little younger than your father. Yet you couldn't stop the feelings you felt, no matter how much you tried to repress them back down. They bubbled to the surface, with every smile he gave you, with every word that spilled from his lips.

“Hello, love.” he smiled, bringing your attention up to his soft, brown eyes, the sunlight shining on them, turning them caramel.

“Hello sir.” you smiled softly placing the basket of goodies on the table, clasping your hands together. As if your inner conscious knew if you didn't, you'd reach out to touch the living artwork of the man, running your fingers down the planes of his shoulders, across his sharp jawline, through the strands of his silky hair from under that damn hat…

“Are those for me darlin’?” he asked, tugging you out of your daydream. “They're from Daddy's bushes outback… I picked some yesterday. The bread I made last night.” you blushed, watching as he popped a raspberry in his mouth.

Juices stained his fingers, in which you watched him suck them clean, his eyes boring into yours the entire time, gaze mischievous.

You gulped.

“You shouldn't have love. You’re too sweet.” he winked, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows as he brushed past your frame. “You give little treats to everyone darlin?” he asked, eyebrow raised as he held the door open, nudging for you to step back outside with him.

You obeyed.

“Only the ones I like.” you teased, earning a laugh from him. It was your new favourite sound, you decided, as light and airy as the birds who chirped from the branches of his oak trees.

“I’m honoured, sweetheart.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Parker stood true to his word, of course. He did go easy on you.

Not once did you lift a finger, as much as you offered to. He just shooed you off with a smile, saying today was an “introduction day”.

You were given a tour of his property, its beautiful pasture and meadows appearing like a painting in your mind. You couldn't help but smile as you watched some horses gallop in the meadow, their manes blowing in the gentle breeze as the grass swayed. It was stunning here. All seven hundred acres of it.

From the little apple trees that bloomed white in the spring to the creek that stretched to the back of his property, you never wanted to leave here. Especially if Mr. Parker would be here.

The day was drawing near, the afternoon heat diminishing as he took you around his barn, showing you all the horses that nicked in their stalls. You’ll mostly be helping out here, if that's alright darlin. Just keeping them fed, watered, clean and maybe even on some rides while I get stuff done out back. He had told you as you scratched a pinto mare's forehead lovingly, laughing as he snorted at you.

“I saved the best for last.” he teased, leading you to very last stall. A gorgeous chestnut mare poked its head out from the opening, it’s doe eyes wide as it took you in.

“This is Layla. She’s truly something.” Sure enough, a golden plate with Layla was underneath her long neck, glimmering brightly as the sunlight trickled through the open doors. “She's beautiful.” you gasped, placing your hand out for her to sniff.

“Layla’s the first horse I ever bought. Don't let her age fool you though, she runs as fast as the greens our back.” he joked, scratching her neck gently. “She seems very friendly.” you nodded, your heart seeming to triple three sizes as she nudged Peter's body, as if to say- more attention on me please!

“Oh she's a sweetheart. She's my good girl, aren't you Layla? Such a good girl.” he cooed, patting her neck.

The barn suddenly became hot, the sticky afternoon heat reappearing as your cheeks flushed. Such a good girl.

Those four words alone had you keening, causing you to chew on your cheek as you clenched your thighs together, kicking little pebbles as a means to calm down.

Those words weren't sexual. They were not intended for you. So why did it feel like it was?

You wanted to slap yourself silly for thinking this way, taking something so innocent and contorting it into… whatever this was. The dampness in your panties increased as he turned his attention towards you, a grin on his face.

Almost as if he knew. Almost as if he could see right through you.

“So does that sound okay then love? Lookin after them?” You nodded, following suit after Peter as he turned on his heel, heading back out the main doors. “Good. Wanna make sure you're comfortable here, okay?”

“Yes Mr. Parker. Thank you, um, for showing me the ropes and stuff today.” you blushed. “Of course darlin’. And-” He stopped you with the gentle touch of his hand, the feeling warm against your goosebump ridden skin.

“Don't be afraid to come over after hours okay? If you need anything at all, I’m here.” His eyes bore into yours, the softness they portrayed making you hypnotised.

You would do anything this man asked of you. You'd come over every day, every night, every hour if that's what Peter wanted.

“Thank you sir. You’re too kind.” The fact his grip tightened slightly at your words didn't go unnoticed by you. Nothing ever did, when it involved him. “Have a good evening darlin’.”

It was going to be a very, very long summer indeed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“YOU RUIN EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH GIRL!” Your fathers' cruel voice and the sound of the glass hitting the floor echoed, his whisky coating the floor with its bitterness had you running for the door with a cry.

Your vision was blurry as you sniffled, tears making your eyes red and puffy as you sobbed. The door slammed behind you with a thud, your legs carrying you as fast as they could down the steps and to the driveway.

You needed out.

You needed away from this house, and your fathers booze stained breath. His temper raged when he drank, and that was many times this week.

Many, many times.

The cool air soothed your heaving lungs, the cicadas buzzing under the moon distracting the buzzing in your brain. You couldn't think of anywhere else to go but, well… Peters.

The offer he had given you the first day of your time on the ranch blazed in your memory like a wildfire, his soothing voice numbing the pain.

You wanted to see him.

The idea of his soft embrace and charming smile sent your feet running down the driveway, down the road and to his house. You prayed the offer still kept. You had worked for Peter nearly every day this summer, and when you didn't work, you still often dropped by to give him little treats and pastries.

It was too late to second guess yourself any longer as you clambered over the closed gate, lock and chains jangling as you jumped down. Cursing yourself for wearing a little lace nightgown, you made your way down the long driveway.

There was dim lighting from behind his curtains, and you were thankful he wasn't asleep. The guilt that would wash over you if he was would never leave. You made your way up the front porch steps, rattling on his door quietly, The curtains shuffled as he made his way to the door, creaking it open slowly.

“Y/N? Darlin are you okay?” he asked gently, a look of concern on his face as he shooed you in. “I know its late, Mr. Parker sir but I just…”

You burst out into tears, hands covering your face as you cried. You felt his large frame wrap around you in a comforting embrace, swaying you side to side in his arms.

“Shhh, shh its okay love. Just let it out, atta girl.” he cooed softly, stroking your hair in a soothing manner as you gripped his shirt like your life depended on it.

“M’so sorry sir.” you sniffled, rubbing your nose as he lead you over to the couch. “Hey, never ever apologise honey. I told you that you could over anytime, did I not?”

You nodded softly, glancing up to meet his gaze. “Exactly. Can you tell me what happened love?”

His voice was so rich, so smooth and dreamy you never wanted him to stop talking. Each word was a note from a symphony, blending together in perfect harmony. You trusted him. More than anything, you trusted him. Which is why you told him everything.

“Dad was drinking again and he- he started getting mad again. Throwing stuff and yellin, blaming me for things I- I have no control over.” you sniffled, his palm cupping your cheek as he whipped your stray tear with his thumb.

“Oh honey I’m so sorry. That's not very nice of him is it?” You shook your head. “He’s being so cruel to you angel. But I’m so proud of you for coming over, you did the right thing.” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly.

You felt your heart thud madly in your chest, its beat in sync with the cantering stallions in the barnyard. His skin smelt of oak as he drew you even closer to him, sliding your body across his lap. There was nearly no space between the two of you now, but you didn't care.

Peter was here now.

He’d take care of you.

“He’s always telling me mean things, it makes me cry. I don't like to cry very much Mr. Parker.” you whispered, the throbbing in your core becoming more prominent as he began to bounce his knee.

Up down, up down.

You hiccuped softly as his hand came to rest on your thigh, tracing circles gently against your skin. It was comforting. You liked it, more than you should have.

“Tears can be pretty sometimes sweetheart. Happy tears, for instance.”

“But these aren't happy ones sir.” you smiled weakly, watching as his hand inch up your thigh. “I know sweetheart. We should do somethin about that eh? Get you feeling all better?” he purred.

You nodded, too dumbstruck for words as his hand resumed its hitch hiking, making its way closer to your soaking clothed cunt from under your nightgown.

Oh god.

“W-what are you doing sir?” you asked meekly as his fingers gently traced the cloth, making you shiver, the pulsing of your clit near unbearable as he teased.

“Oh darlin, I’m making it all better, see?” he pouted, slowly adjusting you so you sat straddled across his thigh. “But Mr. Park-”

“Shhh, darlin. Its just me, its your Peter.” he shushed you, hands tracing the curves of your hips, running up and down as he watched your nipples pebble from under the soft nightgown. He could sense the worry on your face as you chewed on your lip, looking up at him softly.

You wanted this. More than anything you wanted this. But deep down, you knew it was a bad idea, getting mixed up with your employer.

But weren't the bad ideas always the best ones?

“I see those thoughts runnin in that pretty head of yours baby. Little girls like you don't need to think, they need to be taken care of. And I’m gonna take care of you okay? I’ll give you everything you need, everything to make you feel better.” he cooed, tugging on a curl that had fallen from behind your ear as you swallowed, nodding.

He was right. Peter was always right, you knew this.

“Yes sir.” you whispered, eager to please the man. “God when you call me that darlin you drive me wild. Make me so god damn hard and you don't even know it, you silly girl.” he mocked, eye brow raised as he squeezed your cheeks together.

“Makes me wanna bend you over and stuff you full of cum, till your drippin. Makes me wanna spank your ass red, till you're a blubbering mess. But I can’t do that, can I sweetheart? That'd be too cruel for my innocent lil girl.” Peters grip made its way down to your neck, closing firmly around your neck, making you gasp.

“Mr. Parker I need-”

“Ah ah ah..” he clucked his tongue, watching your doe eyes widen. “I know what you need darlin. I always know what you need.”

Any thoughts from your brain has left, your body and mind solely given to use for Peter in whichever way he wanted. You wouldn't be surprised if drool dribbled out of your mouth with the way you were under his trance, your gaze fully focused on his full blown pupils.

“Yes sir.” you speculated, smiling as his dimples showed. You were making him happy. “Good girl. Now you're gonna ride my thigh yea? Then I’m gonna fill you with cock until you're fucked stupid.”

You found yourself nodding, his grip on your hips tightening as you began to rut your hips against his thigh, the denim feeling delicious against your clit. “Mghmm.” you moaned, rolling your head back as he guided you slowly against his bouncing knee.

“You’d like that huh? My dumb lil darlin, stuffed full.” he teased, country drawl even heavier as he watched you in delight. The praise and degradation was making your head spin, your bones turned to mush as you rode him.

There was a fire in your veins, a simmering in your core that continued to burn with each rise and fall of his knee, with each gentle kiss and lick he placed on your collarbone.

It ached. It ached more than anything.

“I know it aches honey, but you gotta be a good girl and take what I give you.” he murmured against your skin, moaning as you slid your hands up through his hair, tugging.

The brown, honeyed strands were as silky and smooth as you thought they'd be, perfect reins for you to hold onto. “Been wanting you so badly sir please!” you cried, your slick coating his jeans as you slid your hips.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

It was addicting, the way he was making you feel without truly touching you. “Oh honey I know. I’ll just have to ruin you for all those boys at college won’t I?”

He was toying with you, a cat chasing its dinner. You were the mouse. And you were perfectly fine with that.

“Please!” you gasped, pulling on his scalp as he leaned down to suck on your breasts through the lace of your dress. “Mmm. By the time I’m done with ya darlin, these will be full of milk. Gonna fuck you r-right.” he stuttered as you tugged on his his hair, arching your back to provide better access as he licked and sucked. He bit down on your nipple, tugging at his teeth as you screamed his name.

You were shattering. You were floating, a simple atom floating with the stars as you came, toes curling from the sensations. You never wanted to stop.

You never wanted him to stop.

No one had ever made you feel this way, had made you orgasm so hard your eye rolled back to your brain…

“That’s a good girl. Such a good baby.” he praised, his gentle voice snapping you back to realty as he brushed his lips against your soft, warm skin.

“M’so good. So so good…” you trailed off, sleepy smile on your face as he slid his hand down to the wet patch on his pants, smearing your juices on his fingers.

“Open up darlin.” he hummed, winking as you stuck your tongue out, lapping up your cum from his fingers like a kitten drinking its milk.

“My good girl.” `

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minkkumaz · 9 months

Text

DISASTEROLOGY

hyunjin dreamed of you and the things you'd do together, and not one soul knew about it. he finally draws up the courage to show you his intentions

PIERCE THE VEIL series

PAIRING hwang hyunjin x gn!reader WC 1.1k TAGS friends to lovers. lovesick hyunjin. confessions. smooching. slightly angst. fluff. suggestive implications. OMI NOTE i think out of all the members i struggle with writing hyunjin the most. i literally dwelled on this for so long but honestly turned out better than i expected. @skullverse, my ptv twin. this one is for you my schmookum wookums bc ik he's ur fav!!

a single finger traced over hyunjin’s abs, making him take a sharp breath. there were a million different kinds of fun, but that was only a figment of his mind’s eye. when he was tucked in between his sheets, a tainted dream resurfaced every night.

but this wasn’t true, no, it was completely impossible. nobody knew that he dreamt about you, the dates he’d take you on, and the way he’d hold your hand so perfectly that not one person would get a single idea besides ‘they must be together.’

this was his imagination, and when he wasn’t happily rested within it, the world felt like it was at end.

often time’s he’d wake up in a cold sweat. running a hand through his hair to detach the pieces that stuck to his forehead. his shirt clung to his body, lacking the touch of you underneath.

hyunjin sighed, looking over to his blinking alarm clock that had a small sketchbook next to it. you were meant to come over soon to spend some time with him since days like that came rarely. one quick nap later and he was soon reminded of how badly he wanted you, yet couldn’t have you.

it was everything. the way your lips parted slightly when you were confused, how you stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders after he teaches you choreography, or maybe when your hand brushed against his as you walked alongside him.

a low groan of annoyance fell from his lips, moving from his spot on the bed to freshen up in the bathroom. looking in the mirror was only a reminder that today was supposed to be the day he’d say something to you; imply that he wanted so much more than to just be friends.

all he saw was his fear looking back at him. out of every drawing he’s ever made, he could never sketch out a coherent idea of how he fell victim to your spell. so instead he settled with drawing you. just you.

it was now or never, right?

picking up his phone from the charger, he sent you a text to let you know that it was okay to come over. it wouldn’t take very long, as you didn’t live too far. in the meantime, he pushed down these possessive thoughts and cleaned himself up.

the clock felt like it was ticking slower than ever, but that was just a misconception when he heard the gentle knock on his door. thousands of butterflies awoke in his stomach, and he had never been more nervous than in that moment.

he walked over to unlock the door and let you inside. you were cozy in some pajamas, with a jacket hugging your body.

“hyun!” you grin, reaching your arms around him in a hug, enabling his hands to snake around your waist.

“hey, i haven’t seen your face in awhile.” he ruffled your hair gently.

“pff, only because you’re too busy with tour.” you tease him, pulling away to follow back to his bedroom.

“okay maybe i was a little busy! but i have a present for you from when i was on tour.” he tells you, grabbing the sketchbook on his night stand and handing it to you.

“for me?” you flipped it open to see an image of yourself laying prettily on the first page.

every pencil stroke dug into the paper, getting only the finest of details. you lower yourself back on his bed, still admiring the drawing.

“do you like it?” he smiles at you.

“do i like it? i love it oh my gosh!” you bounce slightly on his mattress, giddy with endorphins.

you place the book next to you on the comforter, reaching your hands out to pull him towards you in another embrace. in the midst of this all, he falls against you on the bed.

all you could do was let out quiet giggles with the boy on top of you, his head stuffed in the crook of your neck.

he lifted himself up, leaning up on one of his forearms. his free hand traveled to your face, moving small strands of hair that were blocking your vision. a pink hue played across his cheeks; this position felt too similar to the ones in his imagination.

“i don’t know how you were able to get all those details of me. you even got one of my moles!” you beam from underneath him.

“you’re just on my mind all the time, how could i not?”

“uh huh, you’re too busy being one of the most desired men on the planet.” you joke with him, failing to realize he was being serious. your expression shifts when he doesn’t laugh.

“did you know that i dream about you, y/n?” he says tenderly, grazing his fingertip over your jawline.

“wh– pardon?” you mutter.

“there’s so much i want to tell you, but i don’t want to scare you off.” he looked intimidating, towering over you. but there was so much care in his words that it confused you.

“hyunjin.. you could never scare me off. i value all of my time with you.” you respond calmly, trying to mask your flusteredness.

the line he drew down your face stopped, instead drifting down your neck and across your collarbones. a shiver travelled down your spine.

“are you sure that you mean that, y/n?” his voice was composed sweetly.

“i mean it.”

“whenever i draw you, i think back to these daydreams i have about you. about us. we did so much together, but none of it was real.” he stopped, “it made me second guess things a lot. but i figured that even if the world was ending, shouldn’t we spend the rest of our time in love?”

“i– i don’t know what to say.” you lay below him with a shocked look on your face, but you were far from scared. you were curious.

“don’t say anything. just imagine us, please?” there were undertones of distress in his words.

“i like you, so much. but i don’t want to ruin things between us. i was so terrified.” you confess, biting back a frown.

“you won’t ruin anything, my muse. you’re anything far from poisonous. things will be okay.”

“how will i know for sure?”

hyunjin looks into your glazed eyes, you were looking like you were about to cry. this only made him smile more.

he leaned down closer to you, until he was only inches away from your ear. you could feel every inhale and exhale sliding down the side of your neck.

“you’ll know if you stay. i want to create something beautiful,” he whispers, “then destroy it.”

© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! PIERCE THE VEIL series

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sinkingteethinwhitenoise · 8 months

Text

Ink - Nicholas Ruffilo 18+

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Nicholas Ruffilo x fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Poorly written smut, porn w/o plot, implied needles, tattooing, masochism, kissing, vaginal fingering, not proof read bc i hate myself

The sharp sound of the door chime shot through the air as you pulled the tattoo studio’s door open and walked inside. You had never seen your tattoo artist, but you knew his name was Nicholas. You had followed his tattoo page on instagram for a long time and his work was incredible. You knew you had to get tattooed by him the second you came across his art. You had talked to him through direct messaging about what you wanted and gotten estimates, sketches, and set up an appointment. Finally the day had come. “Hello?” you called out into the empty shop.

A man rounded the corner and your jaw almost dropped. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His hair was long, dark and silky looking. He was covered in tattoos with splashes of color. He had the most beautiful gray eyes. “Hey!” He greeted, holding a hand out for you to shake. “Welcome in. I’m Nicholas.”

You shook his hand and introduced yourself, “It’s great to finally meet you!” You were trying your best to hide your instant attraction to him. His smooth voice combined with his looks and your excitement to get tattooed had your heart racing pounding so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.

He led you to his station and grabbed his sketch pad. Once you sat down, he showed you the sketch that the two of you had agreed upon. “Is this still what we’re doing?”

You nodded eagerly, “Yes, absolutely. It’s perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll just go print the stencil and we’ll get you started.” He then disappeared into the back.

You began to grow slightly nervous as you waited for him to return. You knew your attraction to him was going to be a potential issue. You kind of had a thing for pain. It got you going. It got you worked up. With past artists, it had not been a problem. You weren’t attracted to them. But with Nicholas being the most gorgeous man you’d ever laid eyes on, you were in for it.

Before you knew it, he had returned with the stencil. “You still wanted it on your left thigh, correct?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Yes.”

He picked up on your nervousness as he started to prep your skin for the stencil. “Don’t be nervous,” he said softly as he cleaned the skin. “I’m real gentle.”

Your breath hitched. His kindness and his touch ignited a fire inside of you before he even started tattooing. You were fucked. Once the stencil was exactly where you wanted it and he was completely set up, he got started.

“Here we go,” he said as the needle touched your skin.

Your eyes crossed slightly and you almost moaned. Your teeth had a vice grip on your bottom lip to hold in any sounds. As he continued to tattoo you, you began to clench around nothing. You were warm all over. He adjusted his grip on your thigh and a soft moan slipped from your slightly parted lips, causing him to lift the needle and look up. “You okay?”

You nodded as your face flushed with embarrassment. “Mhm,” you hummed, squirming a bit in the chair. “More than okay.”

“You wanna take a break?” he asked, setting his tattoo gun to the side.

“Yea, let me just get some fresh air and I should be good to go,” you sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m never like this.”

“No worries, it happens.”

With that, you stood up and walked outside to breathe, unaware of the telling wet spot you left on his chair. When you came back and sat down again, he stood to change his gloves. You watched as the black latex covered his long fingers and listened to the snap as he released it at his wrist. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

He got started again, but this time when you started to squirm he immediately put down his machine. “I think I know what this is about,” he chuckled.

“Y-You do?” you stammered. If he was really on to you, you couldn’t figure out how.

He nodded, caressing your inner thigh. “I think you’re enjoying this a lot more than you’re letting on.”

Your eyes widened. “Where did you get that idea?” You were trying your best to play it off.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he started. “The moaning, the squirming, the wet spot you left on my chair when you took your break.”

You just stared at him, the flush returning to your face. “Oh,” you murmured sheepishly, gaze shifting to your lap. You had really tried not to make it obvious.

A gloves finger made its way under your chin and tilted your head up so that you were looking at him again. “Do you want some help with that? Maybe if you get it out of your system you’ll stop squirming so much.” When you nodded in response, his grip on your chin tightened. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

You sucked in a deep breath, “Y-Yes…please.”

In a second his lips were on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer, hands carding through his hair. The kiss was sloppy and filled with need; the force of your lips colliding was almost bruising. One of his gloved hands slid down your body before he cupped you through your shorts. The barely there pressure caused you to moan. He took that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and tangle it with yours.

He lifted his hand and wiggled it into your shorts. He ran his fingers through your folds before bringing them to your clit. He began to rub tight, gentle circles into the bundle of nerves. You pulled away and threw your head back with a gasp. He immediately began to suck a mark into your pulse point once he had the access. Your hips began to move on their own accord, grinding up into his fingers to chase the delicious friction. “Please Nicholas,” you whimpered. “I need more.”

You whined as he pulled his hand out of your shorts and backed away from you. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He said as he pulled down your bottoms, leaving your bottom half completely bare. He grabbed your legs and spread them further, groaning at the sight of your glistening cunt. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re soaked,” he teased. “Let’s do something about that.” He slipped two gloved fingered into you.

You moaned loudly and gripped the sides of the chair as he began to pump them in and out. As he picked up the pace, he started to curl his fingers. With each thrust, his fingers hit that spongy spot inside of you, causing your back to arch off of the chair. You started clenching around his fingers. “Oh you’re close, huh?” he murmured. You could only respond with moans and a weak nod. He dipped his head down and sucked your clit into his mouth harshly. The coil snapped and you came hard, nearly convulsing as he helped you ride out your high.

Your breathing was heavy when he finally stopped. When he pulled his fingers out, he smirked at the evidence of your creamy release on the black gloves that still covered his hand. His tongue darted out and he sucked the glove clean before changing into a fresh pair. “Ready to get back to work?”

#nicholas ruffilo smut #nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens smut #bad omens x reader #sinkingteethinwhitenoise

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ourautumn86 · 1 year

Text

stray. pt. 5

joel miller x fem! reader

gif credits to @pedrorascal <3

< previous chapter next chapter >

summary; after saving Joel and Ellie from the brink of death, you get caught with having to live with two more strays.., and you don't do strays.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡either ways, i hope y'all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

warnings; eventual +18 content! MINORS DONT INTERACT IN THE CHAPTERS WHERE IT IS IMPLIED IN THE WARNINGS and smut, mentions of death, possible deaths, blood, fighting, angst, fluff..

warnings for chapter 5; angst, loss, ellie and reader getting closer <3 (man i love them), guns, daggers, blood, wounds, weapons, tension, cursing, fear, ptsd, joel and reader get closer…

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

a/n; omg in so excited, the tension is growingggg

You had been awake for hours, unable to move from this bed that surrounded you like a big tight hug. You knew you shouldn’t let it, should get up and start moving, start one more day…

And you too knew that Ellie was on the other side of the door, waiting. You had heard her pacing around, getting closer, almost knocking but always sighing and stepping back. Now she was sitting against it, you could see the shadow, hear her head moving from time to time and her soft breathing.

You got up, a groan falling from your lips when your side throbbed and pinched. Fucking bitch knew how to kick…

You sighed when you opened the door and Ellie, who was fully leaning on it, fell backwards into the room. She looked at you from below, eyes shot open and you gave her an unamused stare before inhaling deep and stepping outside, dodging her. She sat up as you entered your room, exiting it shortly after taking a new change of clothes, and stood up as you closed the bathroom’s door behind your back. She stood there silently, hearing as you turned the shower on and bathed.

The mirror reflected your messy state, your bruised cheek and sticky skin bathed in blood. You didn’t waste time to scrub it off, thanking the water pouring on your body.

You didn’t take long, being efficient in putting on your clean clothes —along with the dirty ones to wash up— and leaving the bathroom.

She was in the same spot you had left her. And you went back into the room dodging her…, again.

You could feel her need to be near, to talk to you, to do anything that could help. You could almost touch her worry as you started to rummage the bloody bedsheets and making them onto a ball to go and put them to wash along with your clothes.

“Ellie?” you called for her, stopping the ruffling of sheets, and she perked up.

“…Yeah?” she asked, her voice careful.

“Are you gonna keep boring holes on the back of my head or are you gonna come in?” you said, and she stepped inside as quickly as she could, almost stumbling. Her eyes met yours, and she swallowed. She didn’t move.

It had surprised her, you letting her in. She was ready to wait ‘till you would come out. She was not ready for this. Hell, it had surprised even you.

She took in the surroundings, took in the art, the photos, the books…

“Are you… Are you okay?” her eyes were away from you, on the floor. You knew she was nervous by the way one of her hands was scratching her neck.

“Oh yeah, brat. Never been better.” you sarcastically said and she stood there, silently, her eyes everywhere. You sighed, taking a seat on the naked duvet. “She was really cool.” you said, and she looked at you. “Kind of annoying, like you, but cool.” she huffed at your semi-compliment. At least you didn’t hate her… “It’s been a year… And everything looks the same.” you sighed, your eyes dreamy on her artworks.

“She was great.” she said, pointing at her sketches.

“She truly was. He wanted to be a tattoo artist. Got a gun and everything.” you said. “Carved one on my back for her first time.” you chuckled, and she smiled.

“Can I… See it?” she inquired, and that caught you by surprise.

“You want to see it?” you frowned.

“I’ve just never seen a tattoo before. Only on pictures.” she said and you nodded, muttering a ‘sure’ that made her get excited.

You turned her back to her and slowly shifted up your white sleeveless top, revealing at the middle of your back a big black moth.

She took it in, eyes open and mouth ajar. She stepped closer, and one of his hands rose with the need to touch it, but she retracted it. It was beautiful. “How… Does it feel like? To get a tattoo I mean.” she says, and you turned back to her, letting your top hide your tattoo once again.

“It hurts. But it feels awesome when its finally done.”

“I want one.” she said, and you scoffed.

“You’re too young for that kind of stuff, kid.” Kid. Well, at least it was better than ‘brat’.

“I’m not. When did you get yours?”

“When I was sixteen.” you answered.

“I’m sixteen!” she said and you laughed.

“Bullshit!”

“Okay, fourteen. But does it even matter? It’s practically the same!” she said and you shook your head.

“It’s not.” she frowned and practically pouted. You rolled your eyes. “Look. Once you turn sixteen we’ll get you one, alright? Hell, I’ll even pay for it.” you offered and she lighted up like a firework.

“Really?”

“Sure.” you said, and she smiled so bright that you almost followed her.

You went back to your shuffling, stripping the pillows off their covers.

“Hey, y/n…?” she asked and you hummed. “I’m sorry. About Laura.” she said, and you looked at her, after a few seconds nodding slowly.

You two fell back onto that silence that seemed to follow you everywhere. Only this time, you decided to break it.

“Hey, brat?” you called for her and her eyebrows rose, paying attention. “I saw that you finished those comics of yours.” you said, giving her your back to take a hold on something in between your hands. You smiled softly as one of your palms slowly dragged against the pages, over the drawings and inked letters. “You should give this one a try. It’s a really good one.” you said, closing the book that had been open for a year to hand it to her. She took it with such a great care… As if it was made of the most rich porcelain and could break with just a mere whisper.

‘Alice in Wonderland’ she red on the cover.

“What is it about?” she asked, and you smiled.

“You’ll have to read it to find out.”

Ellie was really enjoying the book, you could see it. She had not put it down the whole day except for eating and a kick trip to the bathroom.

Joel opens the door to your house, you keys having been copied for him since he had started helping Larry on the farm.

“What are you reading, kid?” Joel asks, a box full of food in between his arms. Probably from Larry’s. He always insisted on sending you more and more…

“Alice in wonderland.” she answered, monotone, too focused on the book to even look at him.

“Don’t try and make her talk, Joel, I’ve had a pretty good and silent day with her glued to that thing.” you warned him from the balcony, your naked feet against the ice cold flooring and your eyes still looking at the sunset.

His eyes found you, and he stared at you. At you and your gray baggy sweats, at you and your white sleeveless tank top, the cigarette in between your lips…

He sighed and walked towards you, opening the sliding door to take a seat next to you, closing it back up so the smoke wouldn’t get inside.

You looked alright. That was good.

“Pretty face you’ve got, huh?” you said, and she glared at your before scoffing, shaking his head.

“Just as sweet as always, aren’t you?” he rolled his eyes and took a cigarette out of his pocket. “Thanks.” that’s what he said when you offered him light to burn it. “Larry asked about you, he’s worried.” you sighed.

You didn’t answer, you were fine, okay. You had been scared shitless yesterday, and still felt a little shaken up, but breathing in Laura last night had really helped you get up that morning, try and heal a little bit more through the day.

Joel’s leg was shaking, a nervous and anxious tick that always seemed to came back after tense days. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, wanted you to tell him that you were okay. After yesterday events… He needed you to look at him.

You spent hours like this, watching the sun disappear and the night fall, in silence, him being focused on you and you being focused on him. The present. Something you never focused on lately.

He had gone inside after having caught Ellie completely passed out on the sofa, book still in hand. He tried to take it away from her as he softly woke her up to take her to bed, but she grumbled something that you couldn’t hear and hugged it closer to her chest. Oh no, there was no way she was letting go of it now. She was gonna sleep with that thing.

“What the hell did you do to her? She didn’t even let me put it on the night table.” he said as he came back onto the balcony, first-aid kit in hand to start cleaning up the wounds on his body.

You looked at him once he was back on his chair, new cigarette lit in between your lips. You took a long drag and exhaled. “It was Laura’s.” you said and his eyes widened just the slightest.

“y/n, you didn’t have to…”

“It’s okay.” you cut him off. “I wanted to. And she would have too. She would have loved for someone else to enjoy her books. She loved them.” you said, and he could swear his breath hitched when an almost imperceptible smile crept on your soft pink lips.

He nodded, silently, and unbuttoned the sleeves of his flannel, letting see the new cuts and bruises from yesterday’s fight. You looked away when you’d caught yourself staring to the muscles clenching under his tanned skin, his biceps pressing against the shirt.

You cleared your throat and took another drag of your cigarette, filling your lungs with an oxygen that seemed to not exist.

Joel cleaned his wounds silently, rubbing alcohol on them like he had for the last decades. New scars would decorate his body, but that was okay. ‘Cause that meant that he had survived, he was still alive.

Soon enough he was done with her arms and had to move up to his face. You watched him struggle to find the right spot, struggle to clean the cut on his forehead properly.

You softly took the cotton from his hand, and he looked at you as you moved your chair closer to him. So close he could smell your shampoo, your deodorant and your perfume. It was intoxicating, but not as much as your presence, as your closeness.

He hissed when you pressed it against the cut, and even if his hands twitched with the need to stop you, he didn’t. You were focused on cleaning it up, on making sure it didn’t get infected, and he was focused on looking at you. At your pretty eyes and soft skin, your long curled lashes and your teeth biting down on your bottom lip in concentration. His heart was beating fast, hard against his ribs. He wanted you to be closer, to held you like he had yesterday, to help you heal the wounds that weren’t on the surface, but inside of you, throbbing with every one of your breaths.

You put ointment on it before moving to the cut on his bottom lip. That was the one that hurt the most. You noticed when he softly gripped your wrist.

He never pushed you away, only closer.

You looked at his lips, at how soft and plump they seemed. You looked away for just a mere second to leave the cotton aside and take in between your hands the ointment once again. He let go of your wrist, but your skin was still crawling on goosebumps, and you could still feel the warmth of his touch, remember the warmth of his hug. You wanted more. You’d been freezing for a year.

Your index finger met his bottom lip once again, spreading the ointment softly onto the cut. Tomorrow it would be almost closed and wouldn’t hurt anymore. He took a deep breath at the feeling of your touch, of your soft yet cold fingers.

You had already finished covering it completely, helping him. But you couldn’t pull away. Your finger softly outlining the plush of his lips. His eyes met your own when your tongue unconsciously dampened them. Your heart was beating hard, your skin breaking like ice under the sun. What is it that you wanted?

Your hand met his jaw as you thumb now pressed against the cut, smearing the ointment a little bit more even if it wasn’t necessary. You didn’t do it for him. You were doing it for yourself. ‘Cause your body was begging to be touched, to be held, and your mind was reeling with his warmth.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he whispered, and that’s when you met his eyes. They were dark, darker than the night, and soft, softer than your touch on him. You looked at him, with that goddamn beautiful face of yours, and he felt like melting, like dying when you looked away and let him go.

You silently stood up from your seat and walked inside your apartment, leaving him behind as you closed Laura’s door behind your back.

Your breathing was shaky, and your hands were clammy. This is trouble. You shouldn’t. Nothing good would come out of this. You couldn’t loose no one else, couldn’t up your heart once again just to get it broken again.

You tried to make up your mind, try to promise your heart to stay low, to stay safe. But you found yourself having yet another night when your mind wouldn’t shut up and your eyes would stay open.

And worst of all, found yourself looking through Laura’s desk cabinets ‘till your hands finally found that metallic little box that you swore would never touch again.

Soon enough, your fingertips were stained, and the hours seemed shorter.

The sound of something falling and breaking on the salon startled you. Your hands left aside what they were holding, your body jolting alive from your seat. Was there someone inside?

You took one of your daggers in your hand, cursing after having left your gun on top of the dinning table.

You stepped outside the room, softly, lurking. Your eyes adapted to the dark and noticed the light coming from the kitchen. You stepped closer, and that’s when you heard it.

“Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” you let down your dagger, let it aside on the table, next to your gun.

“Ellie?” she turned to you, following your voice. She was holding something in between her hands. Something broken. A mug.

You looked at the floor, there was some of the ceramic little pieces that she couldn’t get left, decorating it like snow.

“What’s going on?” you inquired and stepped closer.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I was trying to make some of that tea you drink to fall asleep but then it slipped and… Shit, I’m sorry for breaking it.” she blurted out, and you hushed her by taking her shoulders.

“It’s fine.” you said, and she shook your head.

“But-“

“Ellie. It’s fine. It’s just a mug.” you promised, and she let you take it from her hands to dump it on the trash can. “Now… Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” you inquired, looking at her, and she looked away, growing quieter…

“I…, had a nightmare.” she confessed, and your eyes softened. Oh.

She was awkwardly hugging herself, seeming little, seeming just like what she was: a kid.

You silently went towards the stove, where the tea she had sneaked from your jar was boiling and took the pot. You poured it on a new mug for her to sip from, and softly and carefully handed it to her.

She took it with just the same care, enjoying the warmth of it against her fingers.

“Come on.” you simply said, and she followed behind you, slowly stepping inside Laura’s room when you did. She looked just as dazzled as the first time.

You closed the door and that’s when she noticed the staining on your fingertips, the pages filled with charcoal all over the desk. She walked closer, and took a peak.

“Were you…, drawing?” she inquired and you let out a little smile, nodding, this time being you the one feeling embarrassed. “But… I thought Laura was the one who did.” you let out a soft chuckle that made her chest grew warm.

“Sure. But who do you think teached her?” her eyes widened and her mouth fell on a surprised smile.

“You dick!” you laughed when she whispered, inspecting the drawings. Some of them were simple, like flowers and animals, others were more complicated, like portraits of people you knew: Lizzy, Larry, Laura… Joel. She frowned just the slightest, but instead of questioning your motives and make you uncomfortable, she rather asked a: “Hey, and what about me?!”

You looked at her and her scowl. “You want me to draw you?” you eyebrows rose.

“Heck yeah. Though I’ll get mad if you make me look bad.” your chest bubbled with a new laughter.

“Alright. But first let me finish up the one I was drawing, alright?” she nodded and you took a seat on the desk, grabbing the charcoal in between your fingers once again. She stepped closed, inching by your side to watch as you sketched some leaves. Her stomach fell and her eyes shone. It was really simple, but truly beautiful. There was a moth, just like the one tattooed on your bag, with its wings spread open and showing her patterns, standing on two plants with their leaves fully exposed.

“It’s beautiful.” she whispered, and you felt your heart flutter. You never showed people your drawings, didn’t like to brag about your skills or let them out onto the world for it to see, but it had been a long time since someone complimented them, and that made you feel better. Maybe you hadn’t lost your touch after all.

“This?” you inquired as you rose the finished piece. “It’s not that impressive.” you shrugged and let her take it as he pushed the cup away and onto the free side of the desk, away from your sketches.

“Can I keep it?” her eyes full of hope and light looked into yours, and you melted.

“Sure.” you accepted and she only smiled harder, making you smile just the slightest as well.

She gave you her back, inspecting it over her head. She looked so happy. It was a mere simple drawing yet it had made her so happy… Made her forget everything about the nightmares that sometimes tormented her on her sleep.

You looked at her and back to your drawings, his face catching your attention. You hadn’t even noticed you had drawn him, drawn his side profile as he smoked, his eyes as he looked at you…

You pushed it underneath the rest as you rummaged them to clear up a little the space, trying to bury it where it belonged, deep into your head.

Ellie finished up her tea as you cleaned up, and after a couple of minutes of her chatting you up about all kind of stuff; about what she’d have liked to be if the world hadn’t turned into what it was now, about how she’d have loved to travel up and away into the sky, into the space, where only the starts would ever talk to her, she fell asleep on Laura’s bed, her new drawing on the night table behind her back. She was breathing slowly beside you, her wavy hair a mess all over her face. You shook your head with a smile and softly pushed it away and behind her ear.

You didn’t like strays. Didn’t like new people. Change.

But for once in your life, you hoped this feeling wouldn’t go away.

That they would stay.

taglist; ♡

@bubbles-for-all-of-us @hiphopdancer101universe @amethystwonders11 @mmeerraa @azxulaa @euovennia @twilightsbiggestfan @dabria14 @minaxcarter @lynndaline @frogjumps-world @cassiepascal @mdnigts @fudosl @batweildinglittlepysco @doodlebob-mp3 @boh3mian @saintmagx @scaredknight @ipadkidsworld @somebodytookmyusername @natalia42069 @cassrox @seninjakitey @maddsfilms @issybee0611 @corpsebridenightamare @eddie-munsons-slut @wren-2-d @hiroikegawa

pedro pascal’s masterlist <3

624 notes · View notes

superlarva · 9 months

Text

We finally meet Echo! :)

I didn't have as much time as I thought I would this week, so have a sketch with some colors slapped over it... sorry :|

Also, I think I settled on a name for the fic. Does "Raising Dominoes" sound okay? In any case, here's Chapter 5 - Echo, I hope you enjoy!

Prologue: 00 Previous Chapter: 04 Next Chapter: 06

Summary: Rex and Fives visit Echo in the ICU.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, missing limbs, hospitals

Chapter 5 - Echo

The waiting room was packed with people. Even though he had told Cody to go home earlier that morning, Rex made a quick scan for him, but it was too difficult to see over the hordes of visitors and patients. Fives was also looking around the room fervently.

“Rex, sir?” The boy asked straightening up and squaring his shoulders to address Rex.

“Yes, little soldier?” Rex joked, guiding Fives towards the front desk.

“I don’t see Echo.”

“Echo is in one of the rooms back there,” Rex explained, pointing to the door leading to the rest of the hospital. “This is the waiting room. It’s for people waiting to get help or people waiting to see friends or family in the hospital.”

“Do we have to wait here to see Echo?”

“We’ll see,” Rex said as he approached a young man behind the desk.

The man looked up and smiled, “Hello, how may I help you today?”

“We’re here to get Echo,” Fives piped up in a slightly more authoritarian tone than Rex would have expected from him.

“Echo Se, we’re here to see him,” Rex clarified, ruffling Fives’s hair.

“Right, of course, sir,” The man behind the desk nodded, but paled a bit and shifted forward in his chair to see Fives over the desk.

“Problem?” Rex asked, raising a brow.

The man smiled nervously, “We don’t allow children under the age of 12 to visit patients in the ICU, sir.”

Shit. Rex hadn’t thought about age limits on visitation. He looked down at Fives, then gritted his teeth and leaned in closer to the man, “Look, they’re twins, and I promised he’d be able to see him today.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man replied still hiding behind a false smile. “It’s hospital policy. For the health of our patients and your sons, I can’t make an exception.”

Rex sighed, moving away from the man. He was right. It would be bad if Echo got sick in his condition. But, had Cody not said Kix thought they could visit? Maybe he could drop Fives off with Cody and visit Echo and have them face time, or-

“Rex!” A familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

Rex’s eyes shot up as a lean man with an intricate buzz cut pushed through the doors leading to the ICU, “Kix!”

Kix’s white coat billowed out behind him as he strode over to the desk and smiled down at Fives, “And this little one must be Fives.”

Fives tried to mirror Kix’s cheery expression but fell short as his attention turned on the door swing shut behind the man. To quell any temptations of running off through the ICU looking for Echo, Rex put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Kix walked behind the desk and leaned down to whisper something to the man. The clerk’s face turned a little pale as Kix pulled away to smile at Rex and Fives, but he nodded and began typing away on his computer.

“I cut a little deal for you two,” Kix said, motioning for them to follow him through the door.

Fives looked up at Rex and Rex nodded his permission to follow Kix into the ICU. The boy smiled and ran to catch up.

Rex looked over at the clerk. He was deliberately avoiding eye contact and his hands trembled at the keyboard. Rex sighed out a sympathetic “thanks” to the poor man before following after Fives. He sometimes forgot how scary Kix could be.

The ICU was full of doctors, nurses, technicians, patients and visitors, and others Rex couldn’t quite place. Most moved with purpose and didn’t give the trio a second glance, but a few workers shot Kix inquisitive looks. None of them approached them though.

They took a few turns before Kix stopped outside a bathroom and ushered them inside, “We have to get all cleaned up before we see Echo.”

Fives nodded in understanding and began washing his hands at the sink. Rex and Kix joined him and soon Kix was ushering them back out the door.

“Now Fives,” Kix started as he stopped again outside a room. “I know it’s going to be really hard, but it’s important that when we go in to see Echo you don’t touch anything, okay?”

Fives nodded.

“No touching any of the machines and definitely no touching Echo.”

Fives looked up at Rex before turning back to Kix and nodding again.

“It’s because he had a lot of surgeries and if he got sick or hurt right now, it would be really bad, so we don’t want him to get sick because we spread him our germs.”

Fives nodded again.

“And it’s really important if you start to feel sick that you leave the room as soon as you can and try to make it to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” Fives said in a small voice.

Kix nodded and opened the door, walking in before Fives could sneak his way past, and situating himself in the far corner of the room.

After Rex shut the door behind him, he was met with a dim room, the only light coming from behind closed blinds and the lights on the countless machines hooked up to a small body lying on the bed under papery white sheets. Fives stood motionless at the foot of the bed. Rex made his way over to the boy and put his hand on his shoulder. Fives looked up and Rex saw tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Here, come here,” Rex said softly, picking up the boy carefully.

As soon as Fives was in Rex’s arms, he wrapped his limbs around him, holding on for dear life and trembling with each sob. Rex stepped over to a chair at Echo’s bedside and sat down, carding his hand through Fives’s hair as he held him.

At Echo’s bedside Rex had a much better view of Fives’s sleeping twin. They looked identical, the only differences being Echo’s slightly shorter hair and the noticeable lack of lumps under the covers where his legs and right arm should have been.

Fives sobbed into Rex’s shirt loudly and Rex grimaced, “How are you feeling, Fives? Do we need to step out for a bit?”

“N-no!” Fives shouted, squeezing Rex harder.

At Fives’s shout Echo’s whole body seemed to convulse and Rex looked to Kix, thinking maybe the boy was having a seizure. Kix didn’t look up from Echo’s body, but he also didn’t move to help, so Rex turned his attention back on the boy in the bed. His eyes were open now, but looked glassy and unfocused, staring towards the ceiling. He looked dead.

Fives’s turned his head from Rex’s shoulder to face his brother, “Ech- Echo?”

Echo’s eyes didn’t move, but he did open his mouth in response, and panicked but hoarse and weak words spilled out, “We- we need to get to the wall to escape the citadel. No. I’ll go first. No. No. No! N-”

“Echo,” Rex interrupted softly as Fives buried his head back into Rex’s shirt and let out a wave of fresh sobs.

The boy stopped babbling, but his breathing became more and more labored.

Rex wanted to pull the injured boy into his embrace as well, but refrained, “Fives came to see you. Fives is here.”

Rex extracted Fives from his torso and turned the boy around so he would be facing Echo before placing him back down in his lap.

“Fives…” Echo said drowsily, almost as if he were in a trance.

“Echo, I’m here,” Fives said tenderly, though his voice was still shaky from the tears.

“Fives.”

“I’m here.”

“Fives?” Echo shifted his head and locked eyes with his brother.

“Eh-Echo!” Fives tried to reach out to his brother, but Rex restrained him. “You’re okay!”

Echo flinched away from the noise and Fives looked from his brother to Rex with a hurt expression.

“It’s too loud for him,” Kix explained. “Sometimes that happens when you hurt your head. We just need to be quieter.”

“Sorry,” Fives whispered.

Echo turned back to Fives, brow scrunched and eyes searching his brother’s face, “What- what happened? Where are we?”

“You got hurt,” Fives supplied. “We’re in the hospital.”

Echo began to look panicked.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Rex said. He needed the boy to hear that, even if he probably didn’t believe it yet.

Surprisingly the words seemed to calm the injured boy down, so much so that he drifted back off to sleep.

Fives twisted to look at Rex, confused, “W-why’d he go back sleep? He- he just woke up.”

“He has to get a lot of sleep right now because his body is healing.”

Fives turned back to Echo and Kix walked over to the bed and adjusted the blankets to fit around the boy more snuggly.

“Should we let him get his rest?” Rex asked the doctor.

Kix nodded, “We can talk in the waiting room with Cody if you want.”

“Cody’s still here?” Rex said incredulously, standing with Fives in his arms to follow Kix out the door. “I told him to go home and get some rest.”

Kix shrugged, leading them out into the hallway, “I told him the same thing.”

The trio made their back to the waiting room quickly and found Cody dosing in one of the corners.

“Cody,” Rex said as he sat in the free seat next to his brother.

Cody woke with a start, then locked eyes with Rex, “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”

Rex shrugged, “I told you to go home anyway.”

“Didn’t want the kid to be alone.” Cody looked from Rex to Kix, “How is he?”

Kix crossed his arms in front of him and leaned against the wall, “All things considered, he’s doing really well.”

Fives looked up at Rex from his perch on his lap, eyes full of hope.

Kix continued: “The good news is so far the surgeries seem to have gone successfully and he appears to be on the mend. We have him on a morphine drip for now to keep him comfortable, but I’m hoping we can get the dosage lower soon. The broken ribs and concussion all we can recommend is rest. For the legs and arm, once he’s feeling well enough that he can stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, we’ll start physical therapy. It’s going to be a long and painful road to recovery, and even with the best of the best, there’s no guarantee he’ll ever walk again.”

Rex and Cody nodded simultaneously with matching grim expressions.

“When can we- When can he leave?” Fives asked, looking to Rex for the answer.

Rex looked to Kix, who responded to the boy in an even tone, “We’d like to get him moved to the regular part of the hospital in a few days. Then he’ll probably stay there for around another week if things continue to go well. After that he’ll be able to go home.”

“Can we see him again?” Fives asked in a small voice.

Kix smiled, “Once we move him to the hospital you can visit him any time you like. Does that sound okay?”

Fives nodded.

“Do you have any other questions?”

The boy shook his head slowly.

Rex had so many, but he was not sure all of them were suited for Fives’s ears, so he kept his mouth shut and shook his head, “Thank you, Kix.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kix smiled cheekily. “It’s my job.”

Cody snorted.

Kix pointedly ignored Cody’s obvious eyerolling, “If anything comes up, you already have my number.”

As Kix weaved his way out of the waiting room Cody stretched back in his chair and turned to Rex, “How’s everything going with you two?”

“Good,” Rex said, looking down at the small boy in his lap. As Kix would say, all things considered, things were going surprisingly well. Fives seemed to trust him—as long as he wasn’t yelling at him—and was fairly easily calmed down with physical contact. Rex could tell Fives was a good kid and already knew he would do anything for the boy’s happiness.

Cody nodded, then turned to Fives, a slight upturn to his lips, “He treating you okay?”

Fives nodded vigorously, “He let me sleep in a real bed and we made pancakes! Do you know what pancakes are?”

Cody’s eyes flicked to Rex’s for a millisecond in what Rex could only assume was horror, before they focused back on Fives, feigning innocence, “No. What’s a pancake?”

Five’s face lit up, “It’s a food that you make from a box. You mix it all up and then pour it in a pan and you get to flip it! Then you eat it when it’s done. And you get to put syrup on it!”

Fives was breathless by the end of his choppy explanation.

“Was it good?”

Fives nodded in an exaggerated movement.

“I’ll have to try it sometime then,” Cody said, standing from his seat.

Rex stood as well, depositing Fives at his feet, “Echo’s in good hands, you should go home, Cody.”

Cody nodded, “What’s your plan for the day?”

“Give you a ride back to the station, then I think we might go to the store and get Fives and Echo some things they’ll need.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Cody praised as they walked towards the exit. “If you need any help, Kix said Hardcase is suspended again this week. Give the kid something to do.”

Rex searched Cody’s face for any hints on what possibly could have happened this time, but Cody just shook his head sadly.

Rex sighed, “We’ll pick him up on the way to the mall.”

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123

#poor babies #next chapter will be a little lighter #clone wars #tcw #the clone wars #captain rex #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #clone trooper echo #clone trooper fives #commander cody #domino twins #baby dominos #superlarva #star wars

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loreculus · 2 years

Text

like you were written for me

summary: in which i read a lot of pretty things that remind me of a lot of genshin impact characters.

featuring: albedo (hurt/comfort), dainsleif (angst, reader has passed away), diluc (hurt/comfort), childe (fluff and angst?), kaeya (fluff), kazuha, thoma (fluff), venti, xiao (fluff), xingqiu (fluff), zhongli (fluff) x g!n reader (sepereately) (i'm pretty sure there are no gendered terms, but this isn't proofread, so if there are, please let me know so i can fix it)!

cw: implied eating disorder/body dysmorphia in albedo's, mentions of childe's real name

personal favorites: albedo, childe, xingqiu

albedo — the role of a lover is exactly the same as the role of an artist. if i love you, i must make you aware of the things you do not see." james baldwin

albedo doesn't normally return home until late in the night, his research ruined his sense of time. so you thought you had time—time to clean up and keep this little incident a secret from your lover. but you thought wrong, because the first thing albedo noticed upon entering the dark bedroom was your form balled up in the middle of your shared bed with tears staining your cheeks. he took cautious, quiet steps towards you, not failing to notice the half eaten plate of food sitting neglected on the bedside table.

taking you into his arms, he gently questioned, "have a bad day?"

you bobbed your head once, answering him. "'m sorry, i was doing so well," your voice trailed off, your words choked by tears.

the sound of your sadness pained the alchemist endlessly, he hated to see you like this, especially over an issue like this. "it's okay darling," he cooed. "we all have bad days, it's just our brains bullying us." his arms enveloped you, his hands moving up and down your back in a comforting motion. "mind to tell me what your brain told you today?"

"the same old same old," you took a shakey breath. "i couldn't stop looking in that dumb mirror, bedo. i couldn't stop scrutinizing what i saw in it."

his hands moved up from your back to your hair, then around to cup your face. "you may not like what you see, but would you like to see what i see?" he pulled your face close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

he then got up to rummage through his bag; it was brown and made of leather, the bag he always took with him, the bag he was never seen travelling without. after some seconds, he pulled out a sketchbook. though you had accompanied albedo when painting on many occassions, you had never seen this particular book.

coming back to where you sat on the bed, he gingerly positioned himself next to you and opened the book, flipping through its contents.

your eyes widened as he turned the delicate pages—they were all filled with you. sketches of you when you cooking, playing with klee, talking about something that excited you, resting your eyes after a long day of work. sketches of you that were made with such care, with such love.

"[name], i began to draw in order to better myself in the field of alchemy. in that time, i became an artist. but i am no longer just an artist—i am also a lover. your lover."

he flipped to the latest drawing in the book. it pictured you in a field of flowers, a crown of cecilias adorning your head, your mouth curved into a bright smile.

"and the role of a lover," he continued, "is exactly the same as the role of an artist. if i love you, i must make you aware of the things you do not see." he placed the sketchbook in your hands, using one hand to softly grasp your chin, his eyes deeply looking into yours, as if exploring their endless depths.

"you do not see your own beauty, but when i look at you that is all i see."

he pressed his forehead to yours, his words lingering in the air. in this moment, you felt a tear escape your eye; this time, not one of sadness but of joy.

childe — "have you ever seen the hell in somene's eyes and loved it anyways?" maram rimawi

you and your lover walked lazily along yaoguang shoal; the gentle seabreeze carrying the essence of the ocean to your senses, the sound of waves crashing into one another filling the comfortable silence. ajax was always the busy man, his harbinger status brought boundless responsibilities along with it. so moments like these—moments where it was just you, him, and the world—were truly precious.

hand in hand the two of you walked with a comfortable rythym. staring out at the ocean, you couldn't help but compare the water's hue to that of ajax's eyes. you tugged at his wrist, stopping his movements. a questioning look adorned his face. you merely stood on your toes and lovingly planted your lips against his. love overcame his confusion, his left arm wrapped around your torso while his right hand rested against the side of your face.

backing away, you looked deeply into his eyes. they were just lke the sea: an alluring blue, a depth that seemed deeper than eternity.

"your eyes are beautiful," you breathed.

his eyes widened at this. "you think so?"

you nodded your response, entranced by his gaze.

"well, maybe you shouldn't. these eyes have seen too much to be pretty," he looked scorned by the thought of himself.

"no, they've seen too much to be pure. but no amount of hell can take away their beauty."

he frowned, creating some distance between you both. "how can you see the hell in someone's eyes and love it anyways?"

pulling him closer to you once more, you whispered, "i'd rather face an eternity of hell with you than spend a second in heaven alone."

dainsleif — "maybe forever was a word meant for memories and not people."

the tired knight eased his back against a tree, relaxing his shoulders for the first time in a while. his eyes were fixated on the view beyond the hill he decided to rest on: a vast ocean, deep like an unsolved mystery, with light from the lowering sun shimmering against its waves. it was beautiful, he thought. but not as beautiful as the posy that laid in his grip. white petals hanging from an iridescent stem, the bundle of inteyvat flowers littering his hands was second to only one: you.

but he didn't have you anymore, now did he?

all that remained of you were these flowers, carefully kept in a porcelain vase you had crafted together, and your memory. he found it cruel in its comdey, how memories were all he now possessed: the memories of his homeland, of his family, of his men, of you.

chuckling sadly, his lashes fluttered closed.

"dain!"

hearing the smile in your voice, dain turned his neck to face you.

"what've you got there, love?"

you hastily brought your hands to your front, extending your hands to present a bouquet of inteyvats to him. "i found these in an old antique store," your voice was soft—tender even.

"i do, i do," the flowers exchanged hands. "i love you even more for giving them to me."

"so you'll love me forever then?" you teased.

"forever and then some."

the sounds of ships drifting across the water below spurred him from his daytime reverie, keeping him from getting lost in his memories, in your memory.

"forever, huh?"

he sighed. it was a soft and somber sound, one dainsleif found himself making far too often these days. "maybe forever was a word meant for memories and not people—not for you, not for us."

diluc — "i burned so long, so quiet, you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do." annelyse gelman

"where are they?" diluc managed to cough up those words despite nobody being around to hear them. pure rage clouded his vision as he arched over his desk, head in his hands.

you had been missing for four days now. four days since you had dissapeared in the midst of the afternoon sun. four days the heir spent looking and asking and tracking. four days of desperation, of loneliness, of regret.

desperation to find you, loneliness without you, and regret of all the things he failed to say to you.

the last time you were together, he hadn't been his best self. he ignored his feelings for you in a hope that they would dissapear, in a hope that they wouldn't end up hurting you. but, in his efforts to save you from himself, hurt is exactly what he did to you.

"can we please just talk, 'luc?" you pleaded with him.

"apologies, but we have nothing pressing to discuss at the moment." he tried to keep his voice even and reserved.

as you turned to leave, diluc didn't fail to notice the tears escaping your eyes.

oh how he wished he talked to you then. because, if he did, you wouldn't be missing from his grasp now. suddenly, adelaide came crashing through his office doors.

"master diluc," she began. "we've found them! they're staying in a small house in the outskirts of qingce village."

"i thought we checked there already?" "we checked qingce, but not its surronding area, sir." she said, voice heavy with guilt.

diluc wasted no more time in his office. he was quick to grab his coat and greatsword, rushing off to you and your hideaway.

it was already late when he left, the moon acting as his only light source. normally, he wouldn't trouble himself to travelling all the way to the qingce area in such a short time, but tonight was different. he would trouble himself for you.

eventually, a small house began to come into view. diluc didn't know how many hours had passed, all he knew was you were finally back in reach. now standing in front of the door, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. in the past, he would've hesitated with you, but he knew he couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.

he heard movement behind the wooden door: the shuffling of feet—your feet. as you opened the door, your eyes gaped at the sight of an out-of-breath man dressed in black staring back at you. his eyes told you more than his mouth had in the entire past month: longing, aching, regret.

before you could overcome your chock to speak, he spoke. "i'm sorry," he dropped his head. "i'm so, so sorry. i shouldn't have pushed you away for all this time."

you fiddled with your fingers. "you don't have to say that, mister diluc. you don't have to lie to make me feel better."

"'luc," he raised his head to look you in the eyes. "call me 'luc."

"no, it's okay. i won't be a bother to you anymore," you gave him a sad smile, holding back tears.

"but it's not okay. i wasn't honest with you from the start but i should've been. so let me be honest now." he softly held your head in his hands. "i've burned so long, so quiet, you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do." it sounded as if he, like you, was on the verge of tears. you mimicked the way he held you, pulling your foreheads together.

you both stood that way for a while, relishing in the painful comfort of each other's company, bathed in the moonlight's glow.

kaeya — "what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from?" clementine von radics

something had felt off with your boyfriend as of late: he'd been less touchy, more avoidant, and his usual sly comments had lost their edge. you wondered if you did something to him, said something to him, something that was the cause of his change. deep in your thoughts, you walked mindlessly around mondstadt—the city's ambience bringing some peace to counteract your storming insides. as you rounded the corner near good hunter, you ran into the man that consumed your every waking thought.

"kae!" you called out to him.

the cavalry captain stopped in his tracks, his expression hesitant. "hey there, lover." he gave a little wave and attempted to feign normalcy, but his voice was far too strained for that.

"kaeya," you held his eyes. "is everything okay"

a questioning look. "what do you mean?"

you sighed, shoulders sagging. "it's just, you've been kinda avoidant lately. did i do something to upset you?"

a myriad of emotions swirled in his uncovered eye, as if he knew what he wanted to say but not how to say it.

"no," he gave you a soft yet sad smile. "in fact it's quite the opposite. you make me so happy; like i'm finally home." he paused. he didn't know if should say this next part, but he did know that keeping the truth in the dark didn't keep it from breing brought to light. reluctantly, he continued, "and what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from?"

understanding took over your features. as a nationless, fatherless, step-fatherless, brotherless, horseless man that had always had a house but never a home, he was afraid of getting too comfortable with you—with the warmth and security you provided.

"oh kaeya," you cupped his face. "it's a place to come home to at the end of everyday, a place to take off your shoes and rest your feet, a place for you and for me."

smiling down at your pretty face, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing you flush against him, pulling you in for a honeyed kiss. the sudden affection normally didn't bother you, but you were right in front of a restaurant. the two of you basically had an audience. noticing the red painting your cheeks, the knight flashed a teasing smirk.

now that's the kaeya you knew and loved.

thoma — "we'd be a wonderful us." keira cass

if you could've had any power, it would have been the power to read minds. his mind, to be specific.

you looked longingly at the boy in front of you. he was so focused on knitting sweaters for the local street cats he failed to see you staring at him in awe. even had he caught you, he wouldn't have minded. you had been friends for so long, afterall. but you didn't want to be friends anymore; you didn't want to be "[name] and thoma", "him and i", "me and him", any longer. you wanted to be "us."

lost in thought, you gasped in surprise as something poked your head. "hey! i finished up that last sweater," he presented the clothing on it's new owner, an adorable calico cat. "doesn't it look just dashing on him?"

you pursed your lips, "it's perfect."

"baha, isn't it? well, now that we're done here, i think we should treat ourselves to some dinner at the komore teahouse."

as you nodded your agreement, he took your hand and helped you off the ground. he doesn't let it go once you were upright though; he kept your hands locked, fingers securely entertwined as if they were always meant to be there. you could feel the heat warming your cheeks. oh archons, you hoped he was too busy talking about what food he was gonna order to notice.

thoma did notice, of course, and he was pleased with your reaction. unbeknownst to you, he too wanted to be more than what you both were now.

you two treated yourselves to a lovely dinner: unagi chazuke, tri-flavored skewers, wakatakeni, sakura mochi. needless to say, you were grateful that thoma's "retainer of the kamisato clan" title protected you from a hefty bill.

seated across from each other at the table, you entertained yourselves. laughter and comfort filled the air in your corner of the room, all other patrons fading into the background.

but there was a moment of silence when cups occupied both your lips, the conversation drying your throats. it was then you could hear the chatter of the other patrons in the space:

"oh, what lovely sweethearts they are!" "do you remember when we first looked at each other like that, hon?" "oh to have a man look at me the way he's looking at them-"

all their statements were flustering, but that last comment was especially quick to heat your cheeks.

"ehe, i guess everyone thinks we're a pair," you cuckled awkwardly. "don't worry though, thoma, i wouldn't disrespect you like that."

a pregnant pause.

"what if i want you to?"

your eyes met his, widening significantly. "well—i-i mean, i wouldn't mind...doing that..." your voice stuttered, getting quieter with every word. you weren't even sure if your following, "i'd love for you and i to be an us," was audible.

it must have been though, as the blonde in front of you chuckled and took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, leaving a kiss there. "i think we'd make a wonderful us, my darling."

xiao — "no human being has ever stood so close to my soul as you stand." james joyce

the time between protecting liyue from darkness and the sunlight peeking under your bedroom's blinds was the yaksha's favorite time of day. seeing your calm, resting figure with your chest moving in a relaxed pattern brought nothing but peace to his mind.

it meant you had a good rest; and to have slept soundly in the night was to have a good day, and he wanted nothing less than good days for you. and knowing you trusted him enough to wait for you to awaken by your bedside was xiao's greatest honor.

he didn't truly understand what was going on between you two, but he was grateful for your trust, for your unashamed closeness. as an adeptus, he was very used to solitude, so much so that he seemed to detest intimacy. and he did. or, at least he thought he did.

you ruined all that he had thought he was. all those preconcieved ideas about himself, all those characteristics he self-endowed went out the window when you came into the picture.

all of a sudden he didn't want to be alone. he wanted to be with you. all of a sudden, he didn't want to spend his nights chasing demons by himself. he wanted to spend them chasing shooting stars with you. and he just didn't get it—what happened, what changed, why he felt this way.

pondering these questions as he knelt beside your bed, his arm mindlessly drifted over your form, rubbing your arms and back. the motion was so comforting but it stirred you from your slumber nonetheless.

eyes prying open, you breathed, "xiao?"

"good morning," he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss there.

"well, this is a nice surprise," your tired smile shifted into one of humor. "why do you look constipated?"

"i look what?"

you giggled.

"i was just thinking, love."

you tried your best to sober up, and asked through small laughs, "thinking about what?"

"about you." he looked at you so lovingly. " about how no human being has ever stood so close to my soul as you stand." he leaned over you, resting his forearm against the mattress, bringing himself face-to-face with you. "thank you for that."

xingqiu — "i wanted to write down exactly what i felt, but somehow the paper stayed empty. and i could not have described it any better." wtm

xingqiu's hand cramped with its position under the feather quill. "ha," a low sound emitted from under his breath, a sign that his fustration over the letter he was witing you was beginning to overcome him.

it seemed to be teasing him, the paper in all of its blankness. as a successful, published author, writing about his passions and interests was supposed to be the easiest, most straightforward thing in the entire world, and what was he more interested in than you?

nothing. literally nothing.

he would do anything with you, anything for you. see a performance at the heyu teahouse? sure. go jueyun chili picking in qingce village? why, he would love to. eat a bowl of stir-fried carrots for a date night? he'd eat two. and xingqiu hates carrots.

but that's just what you did to him. you turned his hatred into love and smoothed out all the rough patches. you made him feel crazy, sick in the head. and he wanted to express this to you in the best way he knew how to: in words, in writing. he wanted to immortilize you the same way he would any idea that popped into his head and stuck. because you popped into his life and stuck too.

but when he tried to describe his feelings for you, no words could come to mind—despite the fact that you yourself lived there rent free. he looked through every dictionary, asked locals around the harbor, but to no avail. there just wasn't a word strong enough, a word accurate enough, to define the feelings in his heart.

with the sun beginning to set, he knew he was running out of time to find one before his rondevouz with you at xinyue kiosk. rubbing his temples in defeat, he realized something. so, he packaged the unused paper and left the quill on the table.

approaching the restaurant's doors, he heard a sweet sound call his name. "xingqiu!"

he rushed over towards your voice, pulling you into a light embrace. "i have something to give you," he began.

your eyes lit up at his statement, but he raised a finger to your lips before you could respond. "nuh uh uh, hush. you'll have to wait 'till after we eat," his tone was thoughtful at best and mischievous at worst.

dinner was, as expected of the xinyue kiosk, was grandiose in its experience and delectable in its taste. xingqiu knew that'd be hard to beat, but he was hoping what he had to say might be more memorable for you than the food.

he handed you the envelope he packaged before leaving his home earlier tonight, saying, "go ahead, open it up." you did as he said, confusion quickly taking over your features at the sight of a plain piece of paper.

"love, you know i'm a writer. i like to write about everything i love, so, naturally, i'd want to write about you too. as it turns out, i couldn't think of a way to convey my love for you in writing. i wanted to write down exactly how i felt, but somehow the paper stayed empty. and i don't think i could have described it any better," he chuckled softly, cupping your face in his hands. "hopefully this will suffice." he captured your lips gently and you could feel the smile in his.

seperating, you look into his eyes. "oh, it sufficed."

zhongli — "i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you everyday." lemony snicket

it had been a long time since you last encountered the old god. his previously loose hair was now tied up all prim and tidy in a low ponytail, his historic robes were exchanged with a sophisticated suit and timeless accessories. despite his different appearance, you knew he was the same rex lapis he was all those years ago.

right now, he was seated at the round, stone table in the middle of the lake at mount aocang. you approached him from behind, an offering in hand.

placing the bowl on the table, you spoke: "i hope this dish is still to your liking, morax."

his lids opened at your voice, revealing a pair of familiar golden eyes.

"ah jewelry soup," he smiled. "you always were a gem." he motioned for you to take a seat, his hand pointing at the stool across from him.

you spent a good time chatting, reminiscing about times past. eventually, the conversation moved from nostalgia to current joy. he recounted the events of late: the trade of his gnosis, his shift into mundane life. he seemed happy and at peace, and that brought you endless joy. you remembered just how brutal life was for him in the past, with the fall of cities and gods comes the rise of suffering.

you know you added to his suffering leaving him all that time ago. seeing him so fufilled now prompted you to apologize for that. "morax, i don't mean to bring up bad memories, but i'm sorry for dissapearing all that time ago." you reached out to him, placing your hands over his. "i'm staying for good now, we can even make a contract out of it," you chuckled. "i know how much you love those."

he gave you a kind smile. "[name], you recall our parting but you don't recall our parting words." he squeezed your hands, "i said, 'i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you everyday."

he leaned over the table, reaching out to grab your chin. "that much has not changed. it never will."

-> likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

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minaturefics · 1 year

Text

Anything But This

Request: hi! Could you write a Boromir x fem! reader where Boromir thinks that The reader is in love with Faramir but she actually likes him

A/N: Hello! Some love for my man Boromir, hope you enjoy it!

Boromir x Reader

Fem reader

No content warnings

3.5k words

---

The late afternoon air was cool and carried the sharp, almost sweet scent of oncoming rain. The colourful market awnings stood bright against the grey sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance while the shopkeepers’ voices called over one another. You nudged Faramir along, your elbow knocking into his, while his eyes scanned the wares on display.

“Faramir, it is no use. We have searched for nearly an hour now,” you said, throwing up your hands. “Perhaps we should come back next weekend.”

“Do not fret, my lady. There are still a few more stalls yet. I am certain you will find something for my brother.”

You sighed but continued on down the long street. Boromir’s birthday was in less than two weeks and despite your best efforts, you were yet to find a gift for him. What could you give to a man who could have whatever he desired? What could a lady of your station give him that he could not already acquire himself?

“What about painting him something?” Faramir suggested as you turned away from another stall.

You shook your head. “I still have to finish the one I am working on now.”

You thought back to the day you had met the brothers. Faramir had heard about you from one of his page boys and had summoned you to the Citadel to paint a portrait of them together. Faramir was handsome enough, but your heart had nearly stopped when you saw Boromir.

It was torture, trailing your eyes over his broad shoulders, fixating on the way his tunic hugged his form, staring into his proud grey eyes trying to mix the right shade to capture them. He seemed stiff and uncertain during the first session with Faramir when you sketched them out, but he warmed over the various sittings.

When you were painting the details of his face and clothes, he had sat alone for you, talking while you mixed colours or cleaned your brushes. How strange, how sweet, to see Boromir, the stern Captain of Gondor, lay down his steely exterior. You delighted in the way his eyes would light up when he spoke of the battles of old, how his whole demeanour changed when he laughed, how he would tell you stories of his army misadventures.

There had been a few times where you needed to straighten his tunic, or reposition his arm, and his nearness was almost too much of a distraction. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell his scent of cedar and musk. How your fingers longed to touch more than the fabric of his sleeve or the back of his hand.

You had tried to paint slower, to make mistakes with the colour, but there was no escaping the fact that the portrait would be finished soon enough. And with that, your time with Boromir would come to an end. Your stomach lurched. Boromir’s birthday was perhaps the last time you would see him.

You groaned as the end of the market street drew near. “I fear I will have nothing to give him.”

“I would not say that.” A smile played about Faramir’s lips and you arched your eyebrow at him. “I could not help but notice that you call Boromir to sit for you far more frequently than you do me.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you glanced away. “I do not know what you are implying.”

He chuckled. “Nothing, except that I do not believe I have seen my brother in such high spirits as I have seen him these past few weeks.”

Your heart sped up. Was it possible that Boromir felt the same for you? Or perhaps he had simply been happy to enjoy the company of a new friend. “You… you must be mistaken.”

Faramir’s voice softened. “I know my brother. He has been climbing trees and chasing things since he was young. He must truly enjoy your company for him to sit in one place for such a long time.”

“We are simply friends. Of a sort.” You sighed and crossed your arms. “It does not matter.”

“Why do you deny what is so plain to see?”

You thought of all the ladies you saw around the Citadel and the higher circles. Such sumptuous silks, such clean, pretty hands. They were befitting of Boromir's station. You had heard the whispers among the halls, overheard the quiet words in the courtyards — you were fortunate enough to even have the friendship of such a noble family. It would be foolish to think that he could ever be with you, a common painter.

“Faramir, I am not of noble birth.”

“Such things do not matter, not to Boromir and not to me.”

“They will not allow —”

“Who?” His words were sharp but his eyes were kind. “There is only Boromir and I left in our family, and I certainly do not object.” He placed a gentle hand on your arm. “I would be proud to call you ‘sister’.”

Honour and gratitude swelled in your chest and your bit back the tears forming in your eyes. “But King Aragorn…”

“Aragorn and Boromir have been through much together, and Aragorn of all people will not stand in the way of love. He will not deny the both of you either.”

Your heart swooped and you could not help but smile. It was possible, truly possible, for you to be with Boromir. But could you be certain of Faramir’s words? What if he was mistaken about Boromir’s feelings? The churning in your stomach started up again.

Your eyes roved the last few stands and you paused, catching sight of some carvings at a nearby stall. The spoons were beautifully carved, their handles even more so. Hearts weaved in and out of each other, a dove fluttered above a bell, grapes on vines curled up to blooming flowers.

“Lovespoons,” you breathed, tracing your fingers over one with two interlocked hearts. They were common among the regular folk, a heartfelt and inexpensive token someone could present to their lover.

“I dare say you have found a suitable gift.” Faramir grinned at you and you smiled back.

“Will you help me select one?”

He laughed and patted your hand. “I am not professing my love to Boromir. You pick which speaks to your heart.”

Your eyes drifted to one in the corner. It was less adorned than the rest, with twisted stems that led up to a single heart. An intertwined life, one love, one heart. You picked it up, and the anxious hum under your skin settled.

This would be the one.

Lightning cracked across the sky and thunder rumbled above. Rain mingled with Boromir’s sweat and dripped down his face. He took a vicious swing at the dummy with the wooden sword and let out a roar. His arms burned and his hand stung with blisters, but he carried on attacking the dummy, hoping that each strike would clear the images that had plagued him for the last few days.

You and his brother, looking at lovespoons. Together.

He was supposed to sit for you that afternoon, but you had sent him a note an hour beforehand saying that you could not make it. He had sought out Faramir, wanting to alleviate his boredom, but had found his brother’s rooms and the steward’s office empty. Restless and unsettled, he had wandered through the city, until he saw you and Faramir in the distance.

The memory stabbed at his heart and pierced the dummy’s straw body. What could he do? His brother loved you, and who could blame him?

It had been so easy to fall in love with you watching you work. Passion burned in your eyes, your gaze soft but keen as it swept over him. Your hands were swift and confident, capturing his likeness in a way that felt natural, creating textures on the canvas that he did not think possible.

You were so beautiful in the morning light you enjoyed painting in, the soft yellow glow seemingly radiating from within you. And the stories you told about yourself captivated him. How you covered the walls of your family home in murals, how you once travelled to Dol Amroth to find seashells to make a new pigment, how you would paint portraits of dogs or cats that have passed to ease the suffering of their owners.

Each time you requested he sit for you, his heart would leap in his chest, and more than once he had to hide the heat rising in his cheeks from you. There was a time where he thought that perhaps you returned his feelings, but alas… He must have misread the looks you gave him, mistaking gentle observation for tenderness, mistaking genuine smiles with ones borne of politeness. And your touches, the ones he secretly coveted, the ones where he would wrinkle his shirt or mislay his hand for, they were nothing more than that.

Perhaps the reason you called him in more than Faramir was simply because he was more difficult to capture. Valar knows his armour has more small parts and embellishments than Faramir’s steward’s uniform. Maybe all the time spent talking was simply you wishing to know him better, the brother of your lover.

Lover. The word sat like a black stone in his chest. He growled and drove the sword into the dummy again and again.

No, he would not tell Faramir of the pain in his heart, of the love he had lost. He knew his brother well, and Faramir would forever look upon him with guilt and pity in his eyes. No, his brother had suffered far too much, especially at the hands of their father. Let him have his love unhindered.

Boromir would cope. He had to, somehow.

Your laugh rang out across the small courtyard and his head snapped up to the sound. You were walking with Faramir under shelter, your eyes bright and your lips parted in laughter. His heart wrenched and he glanced away. Hopefully you and his brother would pass quickly. He did not need the sting of your presence, the reminder of everything he could not have.

“Boromir!” you called.

He tried to keep his voice even when turned and spoke. “Yes, my lady?”

“Faramir and I were wondering if you would like to see the decorations in the hall.” You glanced behind your shoulder to where his brother stood just a few steps behind. There was a small smile on his face and fondness in his eyes.

“No, I… I am certain whatever you and my brother have come up with will be sufficient.”

Your expression dropped and you shifted on your feet. “Is anything the matter, Boromir? When you sat for me the other day you… you left early.”

It had been too much, to sit there under your stare, to watch your hands and your eyes and your lips. He had faced hoards of Uruk-hai, battled oliphants on Pelennor, faced the Enemy at hell’s gates, but you… you just a few metres away, beautiful, untouchable… it had been too much. Was this what his men meant when they said that love brought people to their knees? He had sat there, still and stiff, begging, pleading in his mind for some sort of relief from the images that sprung to it each time he looked at you.

“I have been occupied recently. The guards require my attention.” He glanced at Faramir, whose brows were drawing together. Could his brother see the love plain on his face? He would need to be better at disguising it. “I trust the both of you.”

You opened your mouth and snapped it shut again. “I see… Perhaps… Would you like to dine together this evening? When we have finished with the preparations?”

He could not endure an entire evening with only you and Faramir. To see the love in his brother’s eyes that he himself could not show, to see your warm smiles directed at another, to bear witness to your loving touches. No, he could not abide by that torture.

He shook his head. “Another time perhaps. You should go, my brother is waiting.”

“Boromir —”

He turned away, finger tightening around the sword. “Go.”

The small hall was alight with candles and lanterns. Bunting was strung up between the pillars, the bright colours stark against the black and white stone. A quartet of musicians played a cheery tune that some were dancing to in the middle of the room. You skirted the edges of the crowd, offering polite smiles to those that recognised you, searching for Boromir.

He seemed strangely intent on avoiding you for the last few days, spending most of his time in the army barracks where you were not allowed to go. Unease sat in your stomach and you fisted your dress. Was Faramir wrong all along? Perhaps Boromir truly did not have any affection for you. But what of those shared looks, half-hopeful and hesitant? Maybe you simply envisioned it, put meaning to something simply because it was what your heart longed for.

You sighed. The portrait was finished. Tonight would be the last time you would be able to see him. There would be no more excuse to go up to the citadel, no excuse to see him in the week. Faramir had said you were welcome to visit whenever you wished but it would be too painful to walk the rooms and corridors, Boromir’s absence reminding you of the love that was not yours to have.

You craned your head around the mass of bodies and found Faramir was standing by the door that led out to one of the side gardens, a worried expression on his face.

“Faramir, is anything the matter?”

“It is my brother,” he said, sending another furtive look outside. “He has been remarkably sullen this whole evening. And he usually loves his birthday celebrations.”

“He has also been avoiding me,” you sighed. “I fear there is something bothering him. Do you suppose it could be me?”

“What do you mean, my lady?” “What if I have made him… uncomfortable with my attentions? Perhaps he realised that I could have misunderstood the closeness between us and this is his way of quietly turning me down?”

Faramir shook his head. “I have never known my brother to do anything quietly. Especially for something such as this. He would be direct, even if it was hurtful, so as no misunderstandings would occur.”

You glanced at the dim garden. “Where did he go?”

“He said he wanted to get some air. I thought of giving him some time before going to speak to him. I hope he has not already escaped to his rooms.” Faramir’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps you should go find him. I think you will be better received than I will.”

You touched the lovespoon in your pocket, feeling it through the fabric, and nodded. You wandered out into the night, wincing a little at the cool breeze that swept through the garden. The noise of the crowd ebbed away and was replaced by rustling trees and chirping crickets. Sand crunched under your slippered feet as you walked down the path that winded through the tall hedges and shrubs.

You rounded a corner and found Boromir standing by one of the trees, head tilted back to look at the stars. There was a look in his eyes. Resignation and anguish, weariness and fatigue.

“Boromir?” you called softly, afraid of startling him. He turned his stormy grey eyes on you and you hesitated. “Is… is something the matter? You are missing your party.”

“I am in no mood for celebrations,” he muttered, voice distant and bitter. He shook his head and cleared his throat. His voice was gentler when he spoke again. “Did my brother send you to find me?”

“Yes… No, well I… I was looking for you and he told me where you were.”

He shook his head and glanced away. “I suppose I should get used to the notion of the both of you together.”

Get used to it? What did he mean? Tonight would be the last time you would see either of them regularly, if at all.

“Forgive me, my lady. My mood has left me ill-mannered.” He gestured towards the path. “I am not much for conversation tonight. Please enjoy yourself this evening.”

You took a step towards him. “Boromir, what did you mean? About getting used to Faramir and I together.”

His eyes cut back to you, pained and guarded. He let out a puff of air before he said, “You and my brother. Now that the both of you are…” He swallowed.

“I don’t understand.” You reached a tentative hand out and he stepped back. Your heart lurched. He had never recoiled from your touch before.

“Fine. I will speak plainly then, as much as it pains me, but I must ask you spare Faramir of the truth.” His voice grew hard and stiff. “I will admit to harbouring feelings for you.”

Your heart thudded in your ears. Feelings? Boromir returned your feelings?

“And as much as I am happy that the both of you have found your joy,” he continued. “I must confess it causes me great suffering to —”

“Boromir,” you said. “Faramir and I are only friends.”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “I do not appreciate being lied to. I saw you that day at the markets, looking for lovespoons.”

You shook your head at him and reached into your pocket. You presented the spoon to him with a small laugh. “It was for you.”

His jaw grew slack and his shoulders dropped. “For… me?” He unfolded his arms and took it from you. He ran his fingers over the wood, tracing the intertwining vines.

Such beautiful hands, such lovely fingers. And yours, finally yours.

“Did you truly think that Faramir and I…?”

“I do not know,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the wood before tucking the spoon into the breast pocket of his doublet, right above his heart. “I could not think of any other reason why two people would look at lovespoons together.”

“I was searching for a birthday gift when we chanced upon the lovespoon stall.” You reached out, your hand hovering in the space between the both of you. He grasped it, his warm fingers curling around your own.

He drew you in and his other hand came to rest on your waist. His scent enveloped you and inhaled, melting at his familiar smell. You caressed his cheek, his beard rough under your fingers, and he grinned at you.

“For so many days I have lived in agony, wondering how I should live watching the two people I love most in the world love each other.”

“Why did you not say anything until now?”

“How could I? It would have done little good.”

“And you would have suffered in silence?”

“For you and Faramir, I would do anything.” His hand slid up your arm to your shoulder. He cupped your face and swept his thumb over your cheek. His eyes shimmered in the low light, tender and naked in their affection. “You are so beautiful. For so long I have wanted… wanted…”

He leaned down and you tilted your head up. His lips were warm and soft, and his exhale was hot on your skin. He tugged you closer and deepened the kiss. You could taste the tartness of the wine lingering on his lips, the sweetness of the berry pie, and something that was distinctly him. He was solid against you, his chest broad and firm, searing even through the layers of fabric.

You drew back and took a breath, flushed and dazed. He chuckled and nudged your temple with his nose. “Should I have known how good you taste, I would have kissed you earlier.”

You laughed and buried your face in his chest. “I would have never finished the portrait then.”

“Then you would have more excuses to come see me.”

“Do I need excuses to see you?”

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “No, not ever. Speaking of excuses, we should rejoin the party. Our presence will be missed, I think.”

“I think we are more in danger of Faramir finding us… occupied.”

He laughed, a deep, warm sound, and led you down the path. “A terrible fate for him, I should think.”

The sounds of the party grew louder and when the both of you emerged from between the hedges, Faramir was standing outside by the door.

“Thank Valar” he said, a soft smile on his face at the sight of your joined hands. “I was going to send one of the hobbits after you. I thought something truly unfortunate must have happened.”

“No, brother,” Boromir said, slinging an arm around Faramir’s shoulder. “I think I have been given the greatest blessing of my life.” He knocked his head against Faramir’s. “After you, of course.”

“Was your ill-mood simply due to pining? It felt too thunderous for it to just be that.”

You shared a look with Boromir and he shook his head. “I will explain another night, little brother.”

Faramir’s eyes darted to you, eyebrows raised in silent question. You laughed and tugged them forward. “We can talk later.”

“Tonight,” Boromir said as he released Faramir and bumped his shoulder, his smile wide on his face, “we celebrate!”

#boromir x reader #boromir x y/n #boromir x you #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #lotr #boromir #request

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sen-ya · 18 days

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@heart-pirates-week || Day 3 || Penguin

Peng gets a third thing I had a lot of thoughts abt him while I made Heart Pirates Week stuff. Puttin it here for now so I can add it to the queue, I'll put it on Ao3 when I'm not on vacation lol. Previous Peng comics I've done (which I will also link once I am not on vacation lol) recommended before this, but not necessary.

take care

Summary:

“Where’re Beps and Cap?” “Dunno, think they went a few villages over looking for some nerd shit.”

teen peng & shachi start unpacking a few things

Warnings: implied child abuse/neglect

Word Count: 1669

“Where’re Beps and Cap?”

Penguin glanced around the open room the four teens had been calling home. It was run down, the wood floor scuffed and littered with what debris Law hadn’t already cleared. He was the only one who seemed invested in tidying the place so the process had become long and drawn out, with periodic full days dedicated to cleaning where Law would use what he could of his powers to move heavy things and direct the other three on how to best scrub the floor or mend the roof. What was left now was one large room that was half-tidy, loosely segmented into a corner for sleeping, a corner for eating, a corner for lounging, and a corner full of books and papers for Law and Bepo’s research.

“Dunno, think they went a few villages over looking for some nerd shit,” Shachi shrugged from his spot in the lounging area. He took a long drag of the joint he was holding before holding it up as an offer. Wordlessly, Penguin made his way to sit beside him and easily took the smoke. Shachi sniffed and pushed his sunglasses up on his head, using them to hold back his bangs which he’d been meaning to cut for months at this point. He was crouched over some papers, clearly stolen from the research corner and flipped to their blank sides. He was scribbling flowing patterns, his hand turned black from the charcoal he sketched with.

Penguin tilted his head, leaning in to get a better look. Shachi cast him a sideways glance. “Thinkin’ about our Jolly Roger,” he explained, turning the page so his friend could see better. “Cap gave me some ideas he had, hearts and shit like that. Real creative.” He huffed a laugh. Strewn across the page were decorative hearts, their lines swirling in where the curves met. Penguin smiled warmly at the drawings, his finger hovering over a few while he ghosted the outlines, careful not to touch the charcoal. Shachi held his head a little higher with pride at the approval.

“But this ain’t it,” he proclaimed with excitement, turning to grab a few papers he’d tossed to the side. He spread them out in front of them messily, showing off five or six pages of simplified, wide smiles. “Cap said hearts and you know what he was thinkin’.” Penguin gave a knowing nod. “So I was thinkin’ about that story he told us, the way that guy smiled at him and whatever. He was even smilin’ a little thinking about it. Anyway. Think he’ll like ‘em?”

“Yeah. Thoughtful,” Penguin beamed. Shachi scoffed and rolled his eyes, shoving his shoulder into his friend a little harder than he needed to. Penguin shoved him right back, and before long they were pushing each other back and forth, snickering as they play fought.

“Don’t say dumb shit like that,” Shachi huffed, though it was clear he was pleased that the other boy could tell he’d spent time on his little project. He gave Penguin a final shove on his head, leaving a nearly solid black handprint on his hat. That only made Shachi’s grin widen and he snatched the hat away.

“What—!” Penguin lunged for it, Shachi quickly scrambling to his feet and running across the room.

“Calm down, you don’t need it right now!” Shachi laughed, turning on the faucet of the sink in their ‘eating’ corner. The delay in the water actually coming out was such that Penguin was able to cross the room and very nearly reclaim the hat before the other boy shoved it under the icy stream, rinsing the charcoal off his hands and the hat in the same go.

“Yes I do,” Penguin pouted, arms tight across his body with his chin pressed firmly into his chest.

Shachi rolled his eyes, turning the water off and slinging the hat over the faucet. He flicked his wet hands at his friend’s face, causing him to startle backwards and look up. Their eyes met and Shachi frowned at the shame making a home on Penguin’s face. “Seriously?” he asked, a little hurt. “It’s just me.”

Penguin’s gaze dropped, his hand shooting up to cover his right eye. The burn and accompanying scar that was there was long healed, leaving a distinct gap in his eyebrow and redness around his ever swollen eye. The iris was clouded, he hadn’t seen out of it in a few years at this point. All he offered as a response was a small shrug before beginning to step away.

He didn’t make it far. Shachi’s hands, still icy from the tap, wormed their way to Penguin’s cheeks. His grip was firm as he forced eye contact.

“You don’t gotta cover your face all the time,” he said sternly. Penguin tried to look around, desperately wanting to be anywhere but here. “I’m right! Don’t act like I’m not. Why are you ashamed of this stupid thing?” He jutted his chin towards the scar. Penguin only clawed at Shachi’s hands, trying his best to squirm away.

The subject had come up a handful of times since it’d happened, but each time his apparent discomfort had gotten the other boy to drop the subject. Maybe it was because they were a little older now, or maybe it was because they were a little intoxicated, but this time Shachi didn’t back down. “It’s ‘cause you got it for me, isn’t it?”

Penguin’s good eye blew wide. “No,” the word was choked. “No, no.” His hands shot up, mirroring the gesture Shachi was holding firm. He shook his head as much as he could in the other’s grasp, his eye squeezing shut. An image sprung to his mind, one of a much younger ginger haired boy, stomach growling. He was a ball of well deserved anger, tightly wound and never afraid to spring. He understood when Penguin was quiet, knew that well fed and well cared for had different meanings. So of course Penguin had to squirrel some of that food away to the only person he felt understood him. Alone and in need — of care, of warmth, of companionship.

There was one thing he would never regret, and that was the reason behind his injury.

But that didn’t make him proud of it. Didn’t make the waves of powerlessness the scar brought on any easier to weather. Didn’t make him feel less that he should have left sooner, didn’t make him feel less weak for not being able to fight back. There were so many things tied up in what he saw when he looked in a mirror. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t there. Hide it away to avoid people staring in a way that reminded him they could see it.

Shachi had a tear in the corner of his eye, and if it weren’t for that anyone would have thought he was absolutely livid. But Penguin knew better, and he felt his heart fracturing as he recognized guilt in his friend’s stare. “I’d do it again,” he muttered. Then, confidently, “I’d do it a million times if it meant you’re taken care of.”

Shachi’s eyesbrows knit together even tighter as the tear fell free, and after that they kept coming. “I told you he’d kick your ass,” he squeaked.

“Didn’t care.”

“You fucking should have.”

Another rigid shake of the head.

“You’re only a year older than me,” Shachi tried. “I don’t need taking care of.”

At that Penguin blinked, considered it for a moment. “I know,” he said carefully. “…But I want to take care of you.”

Shachi studied his face, confused. Penguin knew he was doing it again, giving his friend that look. The one he knew gave him away, the one he was certain Shachi had yet to find a name for. “Actually,” Penguin muttered, swallowing nervously. “I think…?” He looked around, confidence wavering. He screwed his eyes shut to make it easier and blurted, “I think I wanna kiss you. Can I?”

Silence.

Too long of a silence.

After what felt like ages he cracked his eye open and he could see Shachi’s gears turning. There wasn’t hesitance, per se, but questions he seemed to be working through in his mind rapid fire. Finally, he tilted his head, gave a shrug.

“Sure.”

It was quick, awkward, new.

When it was over both of them dropped their hands back to their sides, studying the person in front of them. Penguin’s heart thrummed, and he smiled listlessly. As Shachi pressed his lips together in a tight line, evaluating the situation, he realized he couldn’t recall ever seeing such a grin on his friend’s face. After a few more moments of consideration he offered, “I think I liked that.”

Before either could think on it more their front door slammed open, Law and Bepo strolling in. “Yeah, just put them on my desk,” Law was saying, nodding to the appropriate corner over the stack of books he had in his hands. Behind him, Bepo carried twice as many.

Shachi leaned to the side to look around Penguin. “Sup nerds?” he called. Law flipped him off in response.

“The woman at the library was so nice!” Bepo cooed, easily sliding his book stack where Law had asked. “She saw how much we got through while we were there, so she let us borrow twice as many books.”

“I’m more surprised that they had this much worth reading,” Law mused. He sounded calm, but it was clear to the other boys that he was just as giddy about the development as Bepo.

“What are they?” Shachi made his way to their corner, carelessly picking up a book to flip through. Law snapped at him to be careful, and quickly the three of them started to stir up a commotion.

Penguin sighed a chuckle, hanging back to watch the show as he gave himself a moment to consider the afternoon.

Yeah, he decided. He thought he liked it too.

#my art #one piece #heart pirates #heart pirates week #one piece penguin #one piece shachi #one piece bepo #one piece law #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #my fics

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